


[TRANSLATION] Love VS Duty

by TFE



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin/Templar Relationship, Blood, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 13:46:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11852844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TFE/pseuds/TFE
Summary: England, 18th century. A battle opposing two sides, existing since centuries, is still raging. Erik Lehnsherr is an Assassin, defender of people's freedom. Charles Francis Xavier is a Templar, ready to crush free will in order to lead mankind towards progress. A shared goal, diametrically opposed methods, and a creed.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Becky_Jones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Becky_Jones/gifts).
  * A translation of [Love VS Duty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10654626) by [Becky_Jones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Becky_Jones/pseuds/Becky_Jones). 



**London, 1733**

  
“ Mercy ! ”

  
A word. A last word exhaled in a last breath. A last statement before a thick scarlet liquid spreads over the white and immaculate linen, exalting the pattern with a passionate tint. A body that is slowy falling on the floor, accompanied in its fall by its persecutor, as noises of light footsteps are quickly moving away. The smell of blood permeates the place. One is prononcing some last words in a foreign dialect, the other is bleeding to death, helpless.

Darkness rises, swallowing everything in its way.

Silence.

Nothingness.

“ … ”

 

**Dublin, 1732**

  
“ … ”

“ ...ik ”

“ ..erik... ”

  
A distant voice, soft and welcoming, gifted with melodious tone.

It is calling me, urging me to join it, tempting me.

  
“ Erik... ”

  
I want to hear it one more time ; it is so warm, so pleasant to the ears. Once more...

“ Erik ! ”

  
Erik eventually opened his eyes, revealing two steely pupils blinded by the outside's luminosity. Instinctively, he used his hand to shield his sight from the sun's beams. He looked up towards the person who just woke him up, definitely distancing himself from the lovely voice that he had heard in his dreams. There stood a man ; watchful gaze, imposing stature, giving off an animalistic, wild, feeling.

What a picture he must made to him ; sat down against a tree as he had been basking in a moment of well-deserved rest. Moreover dressed in such a particular outfit, a tunic made of grey wool adorned with gold and ivory, accompanied by a crimson belt decorated with a strange symbol, the tails of the clothing falling on mid-calf ; the bottom consisted of a trouser made of the same fabric of his elegant coat with the only difference of its colour being black, his left wrist was adorned with a gauntlet embellished with details made of silver, and at his left, a sword lied in its sheath.

  
“ Logan,” began Erik, “ I hope that you possess a good reason for waking me up.

\- You will rest later, Shaw's guards are assaulting the city, we have to evacuate the civils !

\- What about the other assassins ?

\- Already gone to defend the city, we are confronting the enemy but their troops are way bigger than ours.

\- Is Shaw here ? ” asked Erik.

“ No, although his right-hand man is.

\- Excellent. Protect the Apple of Eden at whatever cost, evacuate the rest of the inhabitants then gather our brothers and sisters in arms and escape through the underground of the public place located under the statue !

\- And you ? What will you do ?

\- Me ? I will eliminate the rats. ”

  
As soon as he finished his sentence he pulled his hood on, dissimulating his face, and began to run towards the ramparts. His dress and cape floating graciously behind him, he seemed to fly, his movements smooth and of an unmatched agility as he jumped from roof to roof and gained height with a disconcerting ease. He was soon at the top and witnessed with dread the situation ; an army formed of thousand of soldiers attacked the city, canons and other weapons of destruction ready to make-fire. From where he was standing he could also catch sight of Logan and other Assassins evacuate innocent citizens from the battlefield, discreetly eliminating everything in their way with their blades.

His sharp gaze allowed him to easily identify his target ; Emma Frost was standing aside her army, shielded by about ten guards heavily armed. Perfect. He took advantage of a flaw in his enemy's vigilance and jumped graciously from his platform, landing below in a sturdy cart of straw. No one noticed him. He waited for a few moments, making sure that he had not been spotted by the guards, then stepped out of his hiding place and took place behind the escort, dissimulated by an imposing rock. It would not be easy to get closer to Lady Frost without engaging fight with the guards so he grabbed a stone and threw it some meters away from his location, the noise alerting the escort.

As five guards went to see the origin of the noise Erik triggered two smoke bombs, plunging the entire group in a thick fog of which he made the most by eliminating the remaining guards without too many difficulties. He then slided behind Emma, sealed her lips with the palm of his hand, stifling any scream, and pulled her behind the rock, shielded from the guards. When he withdrew his hand he noticed the smirk that twisted his enemy's face. She seemed amused at the situation, confident, as if the victory and the blood shed delighted her. Wavy platinum blonde doll that she was, dressed in a white and provocative outfit which let the insolent and immaculate cape billow in the wind and reveal a red cross.

  
“ Well, to what do I deserve this delicate attention, Assassin ?” snickered Emma.

“ You know very well. Tell me where they are ! ” threatened Erik.

“ Oh, are you talking about your parents ? Don't worry about it, they are in a great cell, where they can eat once a day.” she explained. " But it doesn't matter as their cell will soon be free again.

\- What do you mean ?

\- Shaw sentenced them to be burned alive on the public place.

\- You damn…

\- You are going to join them soon enough.” she answered impudently. “ Guards ! ”

  
Erik, alert, heard the heavy footsteps of the guards drawing dangerously closer so he triggered his blade's mecanism and buried the sharp metal in the flesh of the Templar. He waited for a few seconds then pulled it out of the body of his victim who fell on the floor, her white outfit now stained with scarlet. The Assassin retracted his blade then took flight before being noticed, blending perfectly in the crowd, as dictated by the Creed.

 

――――― 

 

The Templars had doubled their activites lastly, seeking actively a piece of Eden : the Apple. Precious and old relic made of gilding, tarnished by time. They were nonetheless only a piece of a deadly puzzle, other pieces existed and, in the wrong hands, they could cause the destruction of free will. The people would found themselves deprived of their freedom and would become puppets. Even if Assassins and Templars both wished the progress of humanity, the Assassins believed in a progressive evolution. Which explained why they were the protectors of the Pieces of Eden. To protect the artefacts and thus preserving the freedoom and the choices of mankind.

 

――――― 

 

The citizens had found refuge in the nearest city big enough to welcome them, escorted by the Assassins. A part of the city had been burned to ashes by the army of the Templars. The injured were taken care of by volunteers given the task of dressing their wounds ; some were lamenting the disappearance of a relative, others were thanking their god for their spared lives. Erik had joined his brothers and sisters of arms, establishing a surveillance perimeter all around the city.

As he got ready to leave Logan came to his side, putting a kind hand on his shoulder.

  
“ May you find serenity and happiness my friend. You deserve it.

\- I have to find my parents and free them. This bastard of Shaw is going to execute them in a few days.

\- Go ahead, we are enough to counter should they attack us.

\- Thank you my brother.

\- And, Erik...

\- Yes ?

\- They have the Apple.

\- How ?

\- They killed many of our men, especially those who were looking after it. Our Assassins fought to their last breath but it wasn't enough.

\- I am going to take it back and I will kill Shaw with my own hands.

\- Accomplish your mission, Assassin.

\- For the Creed.

\- For the Creed. ”

  
Erik jumped from a wooden overhang, his arms and his entire body outstreched in the void, the air sliding against his silhouette without any noise. He dived head first in the cold water that protected the city, towards his fate, ready to fight. He knew that tracking Shaw would not be easy, he would have to eliminate many important pieces before he could reach him. And he would sacrifice himself if necessary.

 

――――― 

  
It took nearly three days to the Assassin to join London, the ship he had boarded to join the english soil had spent 24 hours on the sea and for the remainder of the trip he had clandestinely infiltrated carts of farmers and marchants. He was now at the threshold of the city, his hood removed, keeping an attentive ear to the loud discussions all around him. He had to gather informations, needed to know where to begin his search. And what better way to do so than go to an inn where he would certainly find what he sought with the advantage of a temporary accommodation.

He found one nearby, the facade had lived through the years, wore out by time and the whims of Mother Nature, light draughts filtering in some places through multiple cracks. The wooden floor was equally old, some boards lacked, to the danger of anyone not careful enough. Nonetheless a comforting and welcoming atmosphere emerged from the place, probably thanks to the sweet scent of good cooking added to the golden and warm light provided by the numerous candles and lamps.

Erik walked to the front desk where a woman of great corpulence greeted him. Her straw-coloured hair were damaged for the most part and parted in strands by grease at the top of her head. Her clothes had clearly been reprised at numerous places, most likely because of a lack of money that did not allow her to buy a new wardrobe. The lady, seemingly forty of years, offered him a warm and honest smile that immediately put at ease the irish traveller.

Erik rented a room, more in case of necessity than anything ; he would not really sleep, way too busy with his mission to even think about satisfying his own basic needs. He had not brought any of his belongings, swearing to stay only a few days in London, the time to free his parents, find Shaw, kill him, and take back the Apple of Eden from the hands of the Templars.

A little later in the evening, the Assassin had begun his investigation. Leaning on the bar where he was drinking, his senses awoken, his eyes roamed the room at a crazy speed, scanning every detail with his sharp sight. Every sound came distinctly to his ears, from where he was he had an overview of the doings of everyone.

Swallowing a sip of beer, Erik stared at a man dressed in a long black trenchcoat accompagnied by a grey jacket. A top hat was resting on a table loaded with glasses of alcohol and empty pints of beer. To his side stood two men, quite inebriated, their gazes hooded by alcohol. They were talking and laughing loudly, gathering the entire room attention, which allowed the Assassin to notice the really interesting conversation going on between the three men. He focused on it.

The execution would take place tomorrow evening, Shaw as well as the nobles families won to his cause would be present. The leader of the Templar Order would assist in person to the event. The opportunity was golden. He would kill two birds with one stone ; save his parents and deal with the vermine. But before anything else he had to get the Apple of Eden back, at whatever cost.

One of the three man stood up and got out of the bar for a minute in order to breath something other than tobacco's smell and alcohol's vapours. He was filling his lungs with fresh air and looking at the light of the moon as, in the darkness of the night, a shadow crept behind him. Before he could react, he found himself plastered against the cold and cracked wall, his head hitting violently the facade of the inn. Erik hold him firmly, an arm stuck under his throat, as the other revealed the sharp metal of his blade, pointed towards the man.

  
“ Where are Jakob and Edie Lehnsherr kept prisonners ? Speak ! ” asked brutally the Assassin.

“ They... They are locked in the Tower of London waiting for their execution !

\- When will it take place ?

\- It's sheduled for tomorrow, at 2 pm.

\- And who will be there ? ” carried on Erik, shaking the man who seemed to have lost his tongue. “ Answer me or I will find a way more painful way to make you talk !

\- Some noble families including the Frosts, the McFassys, the Xavier-Markos and the Grand Master of the Templar Order, Sebastian Shaw, as well as all of his followers and adepts. Please don't kill me.

\- Thanks for all those informations but, you see, I can't leave vermine of your kind stymie my plans. May you find peace in the other world. ”

  
The Irish slid his arm under the throat of his victim and put a palm against his mouth as his bladed one thrusted silently in the flesh of the man, his scream of pain thus stifled by Erik's hand. He dropped off the unmoving body on the floor, closing its eyelids a knee put on the floor, then let out a sigh.

He had heard of the Xavier-Marko's family before, they were a rich british family mainly living in London in an impressive manor. On one side there were Kurt and Cain Marko, two individuals impossibly haugty and narcissistic that considered that they deserved the world, two Templars that used their important wealth to provide weapons to the entire Order.

On the other side were Charles Xavier, son of the late Sharon Xavier who also formerly was at the service of the Order, and adopted brother of Raven Darkholme. At the death of their mother, the two kids had been taken care of by Kurt, who was rumoured to hate them. Under the threat of physical violence, they had learnt to live with those two odious individuals and had allied, by coercion and obligation, to the cause of the Templars. Since then they served their Order with dignity.

“ _Shaw got himself some faithful dogs.”_

Stepping aside from his thoughts, he decided to go to his room and to, should it take him the whole night, reflect on a plan. He would save his parents and kill Shaw.


	2. Fire & Gasoline

The scent of fire and gasoline, this strong and irritating fragrance, came to the Assassin as a painful reminder of what was to follow. Perched on the highest roof in the area, he was scrutinising every detail, even the most negligible, the doings of every subject.

82 persons including 13 Templars and the Grand Master of the Order, 50 members coming from noble families including the Xavier-Markos, the Frosts and the McFassys. Were also included 10 members of the church and 9 persons that Erik didn't manage to identify.

The Tower of London was surrounded by guards stationed on ground and marksmen watching the horizon, ready to make-fire. The mission already proved to be more complicated than he had thought.

Suddenly, the crowd became loudlier, disdainful gazes turning towards the two persons who just made their entry in spite of themselves. Jakob and Edie Lehnsherr. His parents. Securely tied by chains forged in sturdy metal. Their faces didn't betray any emotion, not even fear.

As the crowd cheered again, Erik focused on the man that just stood up, a white cape adorned with a red cross falling on his shoulders and the beginning of his arms. His entire being screamed wickedness, an almost too easy target to identify.

  
“ Shaw... ” whispered the Irish, clenching his fist unconsciously.

  
So that was the man guiding the Order, the Grand Master Sebastian Shaw. How could he ignore the man who wore a proud smirk when his parents were tied to a wooden pole with chains and ropes. At their feet, straw coated with gasoline piled up.

A priest stood up and delivered his sermon, quoting some scripture.

  
“ And may you be cleansed by the sacred fire of God ! ” he concluded.

  
At this instant, the Assassin went down discreetly from his observation point, taking advantage of a flaw in the security system of the guards to get closer to the crowd gathered in the courtyard. He blended in like a shadow and waited. As Shaw seized a torch and brandished it, eliciting the cheering of his followers, Erik rushed forward, leaving the darkness, and jumped on the Grand Master before he could throw the torch on the straw.

Unfortunately, the man was quicker and more cunning than Erik had considered and avoided the attack without any difficulty, threatening his assaillant with the fire that was consuming his torch. The guards were prompt to take action and soon the Assassin was surrounded by the heavily armed enemy. Whatever, he had to accomplish his mission.

He neutralised about fifteen guards with ease before a sharp pain ripped through his right shoulder, spreading through his arm and side as a warm liquid tinted his linen dress with scarlet. He put a knee to the ground, wounded, fighting against the guards that took advantage of his weakness.

  
“ Get away Erik ! ” shouted Edie to her son. “ Flee before they kill you !  
\- But...  
\- Now ! ”

  
Reluctantly, the Assassin grabbed a smoke bomb and threw it on the floor, releasing a thick screen of smoke that plunged the entire courtyard in the fog. The guards had stopped their attacks and were trying by every mean to get out of the cloud of gas. Free, Erik disappeared from the field of vision and took refuge on a nearby roof, far away from the reach of the marksmen. He probably possessed only a few minutes of respite before his enemies found him again, helped by the blood that he had left behind on the cold cobblestones.

His grey eyes landed on his mother as the screen of smoke had cleared. Her face stayed blank, standing as dignified as her husband, Jakob. When the eyes of the mother and son finally met, Erik felt his heart compressed in an ice cold vice. They stared at each other until Shaw set fire on the gasoline, alighting the straw soaked with it.

Edie closed her eyes as the flames licked at her figure, consuming fabric and skin. Around them Templars and nobles expressed their joy loudly, letting screams and applause resonate.The Grand Master observed his enemies burn at the heart of a lethal inferno with a proud and haughty appearance, his lips stretched in a smirk. He would soon be the guide of mankind and its saviour, and if he had to burn to ashes every assassin, he would do it.

Erik witnessed the scene, helpless. The smell of burned skin invading him, his eyes soon attacked by that putrid scent. Even though they never fell, tears, of sadness, but most of all anger and hate, gathered at the corners of his eyes. He would get vengeance, he would kill Shaw and retrieve the artefact. But to do so he had to survive. And plan precisely and thoughtfully an attack to slay the King of the chessboard.

With a last glance towards the courtyard of the Tower of London, where the burned bodies of the Assassins, still tied by chains now as hot as ember, rested, he left his hiding place and escaped, hearing the footsteps of the guards coming dangerously closer. He used a new smoke bomb to ease his disappearance and gain some time. He teared off a section of his linen dress and pressed it on his wound, slowing down the bleeding.

 

―――――

  
Erik found himself at the edge of the Tames, his hood removed, and fell on his knees on the sand, weakened by the haemorrhage that struck him. He was maybe out of reach and didn't die by the hand of his enemies but he was going to fastly succomb to his wound if he didn't receive medical help soon. His eyelids were heavy and a sickening feeling of emptiness was slowly overcoming him, as if he were progressively losing control of his body and mind.

He was so weakened that he didn't hear the young man - _was it the loss of blood that made his dark hair seem so wavy ?_ \- approach until he was already at his side. Surely, he was beautiful, elegantly dressed, staring insistently at him with his blue eyes. As he kneeled to get at the level of Erik, the latter distinguished a red cross in a buttonhole. A Templar. How lucky of him, in spite of all his efforts they had found him. He tried to get up but his body didn't cooperate anymore. Unable to defend himself, he glared at his enemy until he reacted :

  
“ I don't want to kill you Erik, I want to help you. ” said the stranger.  
“ Don't... ”

  
He could not finish his sentence as he fell inconscious, at the mercy of the vermine.

Everything was dark, cold.

The void.

Darkness.

 

―――――

 

The Assassin eventually opened his eyes, blinded by the light passing through the light fabric of the curtains. His body was moving slowly, numbed. He was lying down on something soft. A bandage encircled his wounded shoulder and a glass of water stood on a small table right beside him. He was not in his inn's room, this bed and this furniture were unfamiliar. He dived into his memories, trying to remember the last events. The Apple, Shaw, his execution of his parents, the haemorrhage, then a man, and the rest was hazy. Notwithstanding the throbbing pain, he lifted himself up on the bed. As he was noticing with dread that someone took away his weapons, a dark-haired man knocked on the door before coming in, smiling to Erik. He recognised him immediately.

  
“ How are you feeling ? ” began the stranger.

  
Erik stayed silent, alert, ready to jump if necessary. He stared at the other man, looking for any sign of danger.

  
“ You lost a lot of blood and fainted. ” he carried on calmly, standing beside the bed, his hands joined behind his back.

“ What day is it ? ” finally asked the Assassin.

“ Thursday, you were inconscious for four days.

\- How ?

\- The haemorrhage caused an important deterioration of your general condition, which explains your coma. You will undoublty need a period of convalescence in order to completely recover from “ your ” injuries.

\- “ My ” injuries ?

\- The physical pain is not the only reason of your fall in unconsciousness, the psychological trauma of the loss of your parents played an important part.

\- … They died because of people like you !

\- We want the same thing, Templars and Assassins have the same goal, only our methods differ. We are not so different. ” argued the man.

“ We don't submit mankind, we are seeking to protect its freedom. ” retorted Erik.

“ Which is honourable, I appreciate it. ”

  
The stranger took one step forward, peaceful. The Assassin looked for an object that could serve as a weapon should the need to defend himself arise.

 

“ I took the freedom to get your clothes cleaned. They are in the dresser with your weapons. ”

  
Erik shot him a wary look, still on the defensive. What a particularly strange man. He was an adversary and yet he didn't perceive him as a threat.

 

“ Why are you helping me ?

\- We are not enemies Erik, I don't intend to hurt you. ” explained the Templar. “ You can take the time to recover here, the Templars are unaware of your presence. ”

  
The man offered him a last peaceful smile before turning over, walking towards the door. He had his hand on the handle when a voice stopped him :

 

“ What is your name ? asked the Assassin, causing the other man to slighty turn his head to meet his gaze.

“ My name is Charles Francis Xavier, but please call me Charles. ” he answered with a soft smile.

 

Then he left the place, letting Erik free to ponder over his absolute lack of understanding. Why was a Templar, his sworn enemy, trying to help him ? Why didn't he dispose of him when he was vulnerable ? He had so many questions however time was lacking, he had to find the Apple of Eden and assassinate Shaw.


	3. First Target

Everything is dark, there is nothing. No light breaks through the darkness, only obscurity remains. No sound resonates, not even the melodious whistling of the wind. Everything is void, cold as death. Then, flames rises majestically, surrounding the two bodies at a frenzied pace. They latch onto fabrics, melting chairs, broadcasting a sour scent of burned skin and blood. This lethal fragrance seeps in the body as poison, filling the lungs and the heart, and tears are falling from his exhausted eyes. Tears of disgust, sadness and rage, tears that no one can ease for there don't exist any remedy in this world to such a dispair. His face tenses, twisted by the tide of feelings pouring over his entire being. He yells but no sound comes out of his mouth ; a silent scream, proof of an undefinable pain. His knees rest on the bare, cold and muddy, ground, the tails of his dress are soaked with dirty water ; he doesn't mind. His fists firmly clenched, his shoulders shaken by silent sobs, he hurts. His family, his parents, forever silenced in the most horrendous pain.

Then the stake and the burned bodies disappear and a being rises, imposing and threatening.

A wicked smile is stretching his lips as his laughing eyes seem to stare at the poor unfortunate soul. He laughs then, with a tone that could make the devil shiver with dread. A dishonest and sullied laugh, nasty, mocking and haughty. He seems particularly delighted by the past events. The Lehnsherrs' Assassins are no more, only the son remains in his path. A last annoying pawn to deal with as fast as possible.

As the man smiles widely, everything disappears, the obscurity overcoming him.

 

―――――

 

Erik blinked, his eyelids heavy ; the light blinded him and his head was caught in a vice. He didn't possess a lot of memories of yesterday, scraps for the most part. He looked all around him, in the hope of finding potential clues. He was in his inn's room. A lonely candle, now melted, remained on the night table on his right. He lied on his mattress, in his Assassin's outfit. An empty bottle rested on the floor, remnant of an unhappy night made of despair.

At the sight of the corpse made of glass lying on the floor, he instantly understood that his headache was most probably the painful result of a drinking session. He had drunk bottle after bottle, mixing alcohols without paying attention, hoping to find some comfort in the beverage. To drink to forget, to slow down the psychological pain and the despair if only for a night. It had been effective, but now reality came back to crush him. His parents were dead and nothing would bring them back to life. He had to accomplish his mission and assassinate Sebastian Shaw, the Grand Master of the Templar Order.

He knew where to begin his investigation. Charles Xavier, the young man was a Templar too, it would certainly be easy to extract some informations from him. He who seemed as frail and delicate as a doll with these two eyes of an unmatched bright blue, this milky complexion highlighted by adorable brown curls and these tempting pink lips. He was the embodiment of purity and beauty. How could have such a lovely creature joined the cause of the Templars ? Victim of an alliance between noble families, the young man had had no other choices than to comply. He had not chosen his faction, what a waste.

So be it, he would use of stratagems to obtain informations and, if luck was on his side, discover the place where was kept the precious artefact so coveted by the Templars : the Orb of Eden.

The Assassin rose, unstable. He stilled for a few moments, the time to recover some balance, then began the inventory of his weapons : revolver, sword, hidden blade, knives, dagger and smoke bombs, everything was in order. Luckily, he remembered vaguely the adress of the Xavier-Marko's manor. He put on his hood before creeping inside a cart to reach the heart of London. Rocked by the swinging of the vehicle, he thought of his brothers and sisters remaining in Ireland, he sincerely hoped that they didn't had to counter another attack. Too many innocents had already perished in the battle.

 

―――――

 

Lost in a crowd of onlookers, he grasped a windowsill and climbed the facade of a flat with ease, hauling himself to its top. From his precarious platform, he observed the below world, every doing, every word, nothing eluded him. His eagle sight allowed him to easily locate the manor, that was watched by guards posted in front of every entrance. But Erik had his entry point, the only open window, even though it was also closely guarded.

As discreet as a shadow, the Assassin reached the roof made of red bricks, staying away from the attentive eyes of the guards. He noticed a shooter stationed not far from him so he came closer silently and crept behind him. The typical mechanical noise of the triggering of the blade had barely come to the ears of the enemy when he collapsed on the roof, accompanied in his fall by a hand under his neck. Erik was free to venture.

He suspended himself to a ledge, right over the window, ready to jump on his prey. Hung fifty meters from the ground with the strengh of one hand, he was exposed to the sight of everybody but fortunately invisible for now. It would be so easy to shoot at him and take him down, he was an easy target. So he waited for a few instants before dragging his entire body inside the building, his legs used to balance himself and intercept the guard posted at the window at the same time, preventing him from unsheathing his weapons.

The perfectly sharpened blade sank into the unmoving body of the enemy. From his throat was now flowing a thick and scarlet liquid ; Erik remained cold, indifferent to the warmth of the blood that stained his hand with red. He retracted his blade then lifted himself up, swiping on the way his hand on one of the handkerchief already tainted by the same fluid. He had managed to get inside the manor.

At wolf pace, he roamed through hallways and rooms decorated with luxury furniture, gold decorations and paintings of bad taste. At some places, pictures of family, eternal memories of the lineage of the Xaviers, faithful to the Templar Order even until its most recent generation.

He skillfully avoided the looks of the guards stationed, dissimulating himself behind some piece of furniture, a curtain or in the darkness. He eventually accessed to a big room, an office judging by the furniture. A red cross took most of the wall, hanging right over a wooden workbench. A man, quite fat, with dirty blond hair, was leaning on it, writing something ; Templar's correspondence undoubtedly. The Assassin triggered the mechanism of his hidden blade, revealing its sharp metal. The seated man smirked when he heard the specific noise of the weapon favoured by the Assassins.

  
“ I was waiting for you, Assassin. ” began the stranger, still not facing him.

“ Your watchdogs are not really efficient if I may say, you should increase the security. ” answered facetiously the hooded man.

“ I will make sure of it, don't worry about it. ”

  
The Templar turned over and Erik instantly recognised him : Cain Marko. He had been present at the execution of his parents, he had been one of those that had applaused while the flames devoured the bodies. He was a pawn at the service of the Grand Master ; a pawn on the chessboard to eliminate in order to gain access to the King and make him later fall too.

  
“ How are your parents ? ” added the enemy with sarcasm.

  
The Assassin clenched his fist, anger threatening to overwhelm him. The wound was still fresh and the Templar knew where to strike in order to make the most damages. He glared at his prey before rushing forward. The man took one step on the side, avoiding the blade, and threw brutally his fist in the ribs of the Assassin who winced due to the pain spreading through his side. Cain grasped the hidden dagger in his jacket and began a lethal duel with his adversary. Erik chose to use his sword, way more harmful than his Assassin's blade. The sound of clashing metal resonated in the entire room, the blades following the same steps.

Eventually, the Assassin noticed a flaw in the defence of his enemy and struck at the back of his knees, causing him to fall heavily on the ground. With his foot, he removed the dagger from the hands of the Templar and threw it some meters away on the tiles of the room. He put one knee on the ground and held his sword under the throat of his adversary in order to dissuade any impulse to struggle. With his free hand, he triggered his blade and thrusted it into the chest of the man. The blood spurted out and streamed on the Assassin's dress. He would have to wash it once again, he thought, as Cain screamed of pain, a splitting and sharp cry.

  
“ I hope that you enjoyed the show the other day... uh... even though it was short-lived. ” strained to add Cain. “ By the way... the... the Grand Master can't wait to get you too to the stake.

\- I will not grant him this pleasure. I will get rid of every single one of you and then I will deal with Shaw.

\- You can not kill the Order, we.. we are way too many. You can assassinate us but our brothers and sisters will take our place ! The Assassins will never win, we will get our New World !

\- That we will see. ” concluded Erik, waiting for the last breath of the Templar.

  
He closed the eyelids of the corpse lying on the floor then lifted himself up and sheathed his sword. He examinated the room one last time, his gaze lingering over the letters placed on the desk. Maybe could he find some interesting informations inside. He grabbed the entire stack and and put it in one of his tunic's inside pocket.

 

―――――

 

As he readied himself to leave, he heard footsteps coming in his direction. Unfortunately, there were no open window for him to flee through. He had to find a hiding place, the footsteps were getting even closer. He hastily decided to hide behind the desk, near the body of the Templar, before someone entered the room, letting out a soft cry of surprise, although fastly stifled by what he guessed to be hands. The stranger came closer to the body without noises, staying silent. Only when he had knelt at a few meters only from the hiding place of the Assassin did he sigh.

  
“ Erik, it's useless to hide yourself, I know that you are here. ”

  
Said Erik stepped out of the shadow. He had recognised the owner of this heavily London accented voice, thereby he was not surprised to see the young man that he had met a few days ago in dreadful circumstances. He stood and faced him, taking advantage of his taller frame.

  
“ Mr. Xavier. ” said Erik tonelessly.

“ Charles please. ” instantly replied the Templar. “ I suppose that you are to blame for that carnage ?

\- In all honesty... yes. ” answered the assassin.

“ I see. ” said Charles as he lifted himself up, staring at him. “ I thank you Erik.

\- For ? ” asked Erik, befuddled by those unexpected thanks.

“ My “brother” Cain was a true tyrant, as much as my stepfather. See for yourself. ”

  
The young man revealed his arms, thin and delicate. Only, this pure skin was branded at places by bruises, scars and burn marks, tainting the beauty of its owner. Anger took hold of the Assassin, how could anyone be so cruel to members of their own family ? Even if this man was a Templar, moreover his enemy, he could not help but feel sympathy for him. He who seemed so soft and innocent, gifted with an angelic face ; how could anyone assault him ? Unconsciously, he swiped two fingers on one of the scars, a fleeting touch as delicate as the fluttering of a bird's wing. The skin was really soft, matching the very image that Erik had of this man.

Charles felt his cheeks colour with pink ; a quite adorable tint granting him an additional charm. This simple gesture was, for him so used to repeated hits, a soft reassurance filled with tenderness. A contact that twisted the guts of the Templar before blossoming into a warm feeling ; a sensation he had not felt in a long time. He raised his eyes towards the Assassin and catched his steely gaze, staring straight at him. Unable to match this sharp gaze, he looked away, rolling down his sleeves, hiding his wounds.

  
“ I... I have to go Mr. Lehnsherr. Can you take care of the body please ?

\- Yes, of course. ” answered Erik, offering him a smile.

“ Thank you. ”

  
Charles turned over and walked towards a hallway. But before he could pass the door, a hand grasped his wrist, both firmly and delicately. He shot an inquiring look at the Assassin who was holding him.

  
“ Would you grant me the honour of your presence tomorrow in this place when will chime 4pm ? ” asked Erik.

  
The templar didn't hide his surprise, what was he supposed to answer ? Was it a trick from the Assassin or a simple invitation of courtesy ? Still, the proposition was tempting.

  
“ I will be here. ” he eventually answered.

  
The Assassin kept his hold on the frail wrist of the young man a little longer before relaxing it. After a polite greeting, Charles left under the scrutiny of Erik who finally did the same, escaping by an open window from one of a nearby rooms. He reached the roof and moved away from the manor of the Xavier-Markos.

 

―――――

 

Hung on the brick of some building, the manor still in his field of vision, he allowed himself some instant of respite. He thought again of the feeling that overcame him when his skin had brushed the one of the young noble. An electrifying contact that had reminded him of some sweet memories, these of his life at the side of his family, when he was still young and untroubled, unaware of all the wars that eroded today the entire world and its people.

A nice youth. At this time he had not yet joined the ranks of the Assassins and had been oblivious to the fight opposing them to the Templars. He remembered his previous life, where he lived with his parents in a small town of Ireland. There, stories didn't possess any significance and all were equal. A part of the irish Brotherhood of the Assassins had settled down nearby, ready to follow the orders of their Mentor, Jakob Lehnsherr, Master Assassin, as discreet and cunning as the legendary Ezio Auditore. Erik recalled the laughs, the tears of his brothers and sisters with whom he had trained when he had finally become a member of the Brotherhood.

A well-known feeling, warm and sweet.

He shook his head and jumped from the roof, blending in the crowd.

He had fallen under the charm of Charles Xavier.


	4. The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violent and homophobic language in this chapter.

3:55pm. The hand of the watch progressed at an annoying pace. Every passed minute was never-ending ; moreover the constant tick-tock of the mechanism was only increasing his nervosity. He was frenetically pushing on the small opening button of his pocket watch, it was his way of appeasing the beast growling inside him. He was waiting in the corner of the office, in the same room where he had assassinated Cain Marko the day before. Kurt, the stepfather of Charles, fearing for his life, had doubled the guard in all the Xavier-Marko's domain in order to avoid any unsollicitated intrusion from a specific Assassin. Admittedly, it didn't prevent him from getting into the manor but it did slow him down. He had slipped inside discreetly, as a shadow, skillfully avoiding the guards.

He glanced again at the frame of his pocket watch : 3:57pm. Why must seconds pass by so slowly ? Inwardly, he was pacing up and down. He was both impatient and extremely nervous at the idea of seeing Charles again, for a date this time. Date that the Assassin had himself proposed. The smile the young man had offered Erik when he had instantly accepted his proposition had been absolutely magical in the purity and innocence it had beamed with. The Irish had to admit that he was absolutely smitten with the young man, notwithstanding their differences.

Charles possessed serious non-negligible advantages ; his blue eyes that reflected the innocence and the awe he felt when encoutering a new information, his milky complexion so similar to one of a china doll, his skin that no flaws came to spoil, only some freckles studding his cheekbones and his nose, adding an angelic touch to this already so pure face. Without forgetting his thin pink lips perfectly drawn, indecent in the temptation it elicited, two sections of skin that Erik would love to taste, and rebel brown curls that framed his lovely face, highlighting every feature and the bright colour of his blue eyes. How could one resist to such a beauty ?

Moreover, he greatly appreciated the company of the young man, who was of a quiet and peaceful nature, he didn't seem to be the kind of man leading wars or even going on the battlefield. He was impatient to pass time in his company, a feeling that he hard rarely encountered in his life. Usually he was a really patient man, his being an Assasin requiring it. However, in that moment, he was unable to remain impassive.

As he was about to read his watch one more time, the young noble finally entered the office, dressed with a cream shirt, a sea blue jacket adorned with somptuous embroidery, and black trousers. He didn't wear the red cross, symbol of the Templar Order and Erik pondered if it was or not a voluntary oversight as he stepped out of his hiding place and reavealed himself to the light of the day, dressed with his traditional tunic. He was still wearing his hood, thus dissimulating the top of his face.

As his gaze landed on the one of Charles, a sweet warmth blossomed at the center of his chest. He took one step forward, way more hastily that he had envisioned, and offered him a smile.

  
“ Mr Xavier. ” began the Assassin.  
“ Please, don't say that name anymore and call me Charles. ” answered the man, holding out his hand.  
“ Forgive me, Charles. ” he replied, shaking his hand.  
“ Glad to see you again Erik.  
\- It is a shared pleasure.  
\- I am pleased then, would it bother you if we were to join my quarters ? We would be way less exposed there than here.  
\- I don't have any objection. ” agreed Erik.

  
Charles brightly smiled at him and led him towards his personal study, taking care of avoiding the security's members. Erik scanned every room they walked through with sharp eyes, every detail was significant. Although his thoughts were mostly focused on one thing ; the hand of Charles was still firmly holding his and didn't seem to want to release it.

 

―――――

  
They eventually entered a vast room, simply decorated, where the fresh air was perfumed by the various vases of flowers arranged on the furniture. A big settee with burgundy pillows stood before a fireplace, extinguished for the spring. At the center of the room were two armchairs facing each other and between them was a chessboard. Every pawn was at its place, waiting for the beginning of a new game. Beside the chessboard, a small marble table held a bottle of whisky as well as two glasses made of pure crystal. The entire room reflected its host, pleasant and warm.

Charles shut cautiously the door behind them before releasing, almost reluctantly, the hand of his guest to invite him to sit down with a simple gesture. Erik took place in one of the armchair, starring fixedly at the young man as he sat in the armchair across his own.

  
“ May I pour you a drink ? ” asked the young man, showing him the bottle of scotch.  
“ Certainly.  
“ Here, ” he said as he offered the Irish a glass filled with an amber liquid subtly perfumed. “ I suppose that you didn't simply asked me for this appointment for the lone pleasure of my company, am I wrong ?  
\- Well, I appreciate your company but some questions are troubling me and I hoped that you could answer them.  
\- I'm listening to you Erik.  
\- Could you explain to me what precisely are the Pieces of Eden ?

  
Charles granted his request ; he explained him everything he knew about those artefacts, from their origin to their power. Until then, Erik had known their existence and power only vaguely, his Mentor as well as his brothers and sisters had never really explained it to him precisely, only that Templars should never possess them. Now, he knew.

  
“ You are a man of great culture Charles, it leaves me speechless. ” complimented Erik as he swallowed a sip of scotch.  
“ I'm helped, I am the director of the Xavier's Research Institute, we study everything related to the Pieces of Eden at this place. I own all my knowledge to this institute.  
\- Don't be so humble. And let me thank you for all these informations, everything is clearer now. Even though I still don't really understand what compells you to help me when you could simply kill me.  
\- I would never do such a thing Erik. ” retorted almost instantly the noble.  
“ Why not ? We are foes after all...  
\- Firstly, because I still believe that Assassins and Templars can form an alliance in order to reach a shared goal, we can find a common ground, I am sure of it. Know that I don't always condone the ideals of my fellows. I certainly don't fathom why we should deprive ourselves of our freedom.  
\- And yet you lead studies on objects able to submit all of us...  
\- Because I'm coerced ! My stepfather as well as the entire Order would kill me if I were to betray them. When I refuse to comply, Kurt corrects me with insults or worse, beatings.  
\- I am sorry...  
\- Don't be my friend. ” replied Charles, offering him a small smile then staring straight at him. “ Secondly, know that if you were to disappear I would be the first one affected because I like you Erik, way more than a Templar should an Assassin. ”

  
Erik was rendered speechless at such an admission ; Charles had just clearly confessed his feelings to him and his eyes, shining with sincerity, left no place to doubt. To think that such a beautiful creature was seated a dire meter from him, delicately leaned on the chessboard, his pink lips more tempting than ever. And here as he confessed to him, what he read in his gaze was something entirely new, similar to fascination ; a spark seemed to shine in it.

  
“ To think that I don't even truly know who is the man under this hood... ” added the young man as he came closer, grasping the fabric of the hood with his thin fingers before letting it slowly slide away from the head, revealing it in its entirety. “ I...  
\- Yes ? ” said the Assassin, his gaze unwavering.  
“ It is the first time that I see you without your hood, I mean, when I brought you here the first time and healed you your face was covered with bruises and cuts...  
\- There is nothing much to see you know, I am similar to the rest of my fellows.  
\- No, you are different... ”

  
Charles was utterly subjugated by the beauty of this man, something mysterious emanated from him, these bright steely eyes were absolutely gorgeous, the masculine features perfecly drawn ; he relished in the sight of the few scars marking the face, relics of past fights and pains, and admired the light brown short hair lightly curling around his skull.

Lost in his contemplation, he didn't see the Assassin slowly coming closer. It was only when a warm hand landed on his cheek that he realised what was about to come. Unable to react as Erik was inches apart from him, his warm breath fast with desire brushing his own lips.

The temptation was so great that Erik didn't fight it any longer and kissed the young man. It was a soft kiss, as delicate as a first time can be, and Charles answered to it ; to the greatest surprise of the other man who basked in the fact that the attraction was clearly mutual. The lips of Charles were soft and sweet, exactly as Erik had imagined.

Erik lightly withdrew, letting time for Charles to regain his breath, and took advantage of his distance to admire the look on the angelic face of the young noble ; a magnificent smile was slowly stretching his lips, sending a tide of warmth in the entire body of the Assassin. He was going to kiss Charles again when a fat red-haired man burst in the room without even knocking. Caught in the act, Erik instantly stepped aside.

  
“ An Assasin in my house ? Guards ! Guards ! ” yelled the stranger.  
“ Kurt wait … ” tried Charles.  
“ Catch him ! ” carried on said Kurt.  
“ Erik, you must flee, right now ! ” panicked Charles.

  
The Assassin complied and jumped through the window before the security could catch him.

 

―――――

 

When he was out of reach, he allowed himself a thought for Charles, deeply hoping that he would do well against his obnoxious stepfather. This afternoon had been perfect until the arrival of Kurt and the kiss they had shared was the apotheosis of this day.

He glanced at his pocket watch ; the sun was beginning to fall in the sky, night would soon cover the city in darkness. Erik decided then to take advantage of the obscurity to carry out a spotting mission at Shaw's manor, as it would help him to easily assassinate the man once the Apple in his possession. He strided across roofs and took a moment to contemplate the gorgeous pink and golden tints that set alight the sky. Calm reigned ; well, at least in appearance for in the shadow was plotted an odious scheme as an interminable war was still raging between the two factions. Nonetheless, Erik took advantage of this calm, false as it may be, before going to the location of his mission.

 

―――――

 

Charles was standing tall, facing his stepfather, unmoving. Inwardly, terror was eating him, he knew perfectly what was to follow. He lifted his eyes towards Kurt and met his glare, filled with disgust and disdain. The young noble stared back at him ; great mistake. He was slapped so brutally that it made him stumble and he he had to catch himself on the back of the nearby armchair. His cheek was burning him terribly as his entire being began to seethe with anger. Bravely, he confronted his stepfather and shot a disdainful gaze at him. It only granted him a second slap to the face, echoing the first one.

  
“ How dare you look at me like that ? ” roared Kurt. “ A sodomite of your kind shouldn't even be allowed to walk on this ground, I would prefer to see you, and this son of a bitch, burn at the stake !  
\- Don't talk to me like this. ” answered Charles the most calmly possible, it would be useless to stir up the blaze consuming Kurt.  
“ I have no order to receive from a queer fucking an Assassin, our worst enemy ! But maybe you would like me to punish you ? I'm sure you would love it ! ” said Kurt, coming closer to Charles and grasping firmly and brutally his arm.  
“ Don't touch me ! ” yelled the young man, sucessfully struggling from the hold of the man.  
“ Yet you seem to love it ! You own me obedience Charles !  
\- I will never submit to a monster such as you ! ”

  
Rage was shaking Charles' entire body, his jaw contracted and his knuckles whitened by the clenching of his fists. Kurt's words were hurting him deeply even if this man only inspired him disgust. Thinking back about it, he had never witnessed any kind of affection towards his stepson, on the contrary, he beat him at any pretext.

But never before did words hurt him as much as now. He loved Erik, and he didn't care at all that he was a man. Indeed he was conscious of the picture they reflected to the people, one of individuals seriously sick and incurable, sinners and abominations, mistakes of God that must perish by the flames of the stake. But he would never feel guilty for falling in love with the Assassin. Erik was the miracle fallen from heaven that he had wished for since the disappearance of his dear mother. He saw in him the solution, the key to the chains constricting him each day a little more.

The lead weight that his Templar position demanded under the orders of Shaw had become unbearable, his actions were closely monitored. If he were to dishonour the Order by any kind of deed, he would soon be put back on the right track. Little by little, they were depriving him of his freedom, smothered as he was by duties and his noble position. He was the brightest researcher of the Grand Master and still, he never received any kind of acknowlegment for his hard work and his loyalty to the cause. Stuck at a dead end, Erik was the only person that could free him from the ties hindering him.

Charles was tired of the actions of the Templars and of their radical methods. If he was feeling deprived of his freedom, he could not imagine what would be mankind if they succeeded. The entire world would be under their control. Moreover, since his meeting with the Irish, the young man was thinking to leave the Order and to ally with the Assassins. He shared way more ideals with them than with the Templars. He could share his knowledge of the Pieces of Eden and help to locate them. Admittedly, his frail stature would not allow him to fight but his intellect could very certainly be useful to the Brotherhood. At the same time, he would get rid of his awful stepfather and stay at Erik's side. Yes, that life would be idyllic.

As for Raven... Charles saw her rarely. She contributed directly to the Templars' activities and when she was not on the field to investigate, she was courted by men coming from noble families during social gatherings organised by Kurt, ready for anything to marry his stepdaughter to the richest of them. Notwithstanding her absence, she and Charles remained close, and when necessary, they made commun front against their stepfather. Of course they were still bickering sometimes, but if something ever happened to his sister, Charles would be deeply affected and would eliminate her killer with his own hands. They had sworn it to each other.

A fist in the stomach threw him out of his thoughts and brought him back to the harsh reality. His breathing cut, Charles collapsed on the floor, holding his ribs because of the pain. Kurt was in a dark anger, seemingly ready to beat him to death. A foot struck him in the ribs and he felt some of them break under the hit. Suffocating, he tried to get away, looking for anything to protect himself. Sadly in vain as a second kick even more violent than the previous one hit him in the abdomen. A lot of kicks followed, hitting his chest, his arms, his legs, his face, without restraint nor mercy. Kurt didn't care if he was wrecking that abomination that was his stepson. It was only when the latter fainted under the pain that he stopped to beat him. Kurt glared at him and didn't hesitate for a second to spit right in his face, leaving him unconscious on the carpet of the lounge, before he went back to his quarters, pleased with himself.

Charles stayed on the floor for hours as the manor and its occupants were slowly falling asleep.

 

―――――

  
Erik, for himself, had led his mission of spotting and infiltration with success and henceforth knew the strategic points of the place. His pocked watch displayed past midnight and he was going to go back to the inn when he thought again of Charles. He couldn't help but worry about him, he had seen the rage of Kurt and he knew the violence of that man. If he had dared to raise a hand on Charles he would bitterly regret it.

The Assassin decided then to return to the Xavier-Marko's manor in order to verify that the young man was safe. He rushed towards the huge building and used his eagle sight to locate Charles. He was not in his room but in his lounge, on the floor. Dear... Fearing the worst, Erik rushed inside, killing a guard who was obstructing his way, and entered the room where Charles was lying. He threw himself on the floor, taking him in his arms and instantly checking his heart rate and his breathing. He was alive. Thankfully. Erik shook him to wake him up, calling his name numerous times, a refrain repeated again and again.

Eventually, the young man opened his eyes, slowly coming back to his senses.

  
“ Erik... ? ” asked weakly Charles.  
“ I'm here Charles, you have nothing to be afraid of. ” he reassured him by threading softly a hand in his brown curls. “ We have to take care of your wounds, can you walk ?  
\- Yes, I think... ”

  
Erik put Charles' left arm on his shoulders with care and put his own arm around his waist, helping him to walk towards the room of the young noble. The walk was tiresome and once in the room the young man settled down on the bed, silent. Erik took the time to shut and lock the door and went to the bathroom in order to fill a basin with warm water and retrieve the essentials for a comfortable toilette. He put down the equipment on a bedside table and kneeled before Charles, letting the shirt, stained on places by blood, slide solftly against his frail body.

Once removed, he sent the clothing item towards the floor and observed a moment the Templar. He was remaining silent, his gaze vacant and lost. He was not reacting so Erik grabbed a warm washing mitt coated with soap and applied it delicately on the skin covered with bruises and cuts.

The so beautiful, so pure and so perfect skin of Charles was stained with bruises and blood marks. A view that only increased the anger of the Assassin. Kurt was going to pay for his deeds. But before vengeance, he worried about the well-being of his loved one. He kept his movements soft, the washing mitt was not putting too much pressure on his skin, only enough to erase the impurities. As he was not trying to make Charles uncomfortable, his gaze didn't linger on his nude body.

Once done with the chest, back, face and arms, he dressed the wounds and slipped him onto a clean shirt. He removed the black trouser covering his legs, leaving him only with his underwear. He changed the water before reproducing the same task for the legs, with as much gentleness. He shared a little warmth with the young man who seemed to slowly regain his wits.

Charles lifted his head and met the benevolent gaze of Erik ; it instantly put him at ease. He offered the Irish a feeble smile and took place under the sheets. Erik went back to the bathroom to drop off the equipment. When he came back in the room Charles had fallen asleep. He settled down in an armchair near the bed and stayed by his side. How could such cruelty be possible ? How had the human being become so monstruous ?

It would be easy for Erik to creep inside the room where Kurt slept and to take his life. But he would not obtain justice for the hits inflicted to the young man like this. No, he had to strike harder.

 

―――――

  
Many hours passed before a scream made Erik bolt, Charles was seated in his bed, shaking, his breathing loud and fast, sweat wet his forehead and he seemed to look after something. The Assassin instantly took place beside him, seated at the edge of the mattress. He held the hand of the young man in his own and catched his gaze.

  
“ Charles, don't be scared, I am here. ” he said with a soft and kind voice.  
“ Erik... Kurt, I... I dreamed that he had killed you...  
\- Everything is alright, I'm with you. It was only a bad dream, go back to sleep.  
\- Yes... ”

  
Erik waited for Charles to lay down again in order to get back to his armchair but a weak voice called him before he could sit.

  
“ Come near me... please...” whispered the young man as Erik complied and settled down on the edge of the mattress. “ No... I mean, lie down... ”

  
The noble blushed feebly ; had he not been that weak the situation would have been way more pleasant. As it was, he only needed to feel the presence of the one he cherished. Erik stepped out of his Assassin's outfit and removed his hidden blade, remaining in his trousers. He slided in the fresh sheets beside Charles who instantly cuddled up to him, claiming the warmth emitted by the nude chest of the Assassin ; a comforting warmth that made him feel safe. Erik encircled the body of Charles with one arm as he lifted the covers over them both with his free hand. Then he threaded it in the brown curls of the young man, softly stroking his skull. Lulled by the rise and fall of the chest of Erik as well by the scent that belonged to him and his soft strokes, Charles finally felt asleep again.

Erik witnessed him sleep for a moment, he seemed calmer and appeased. The roles switched. A few weeks ago, Erik was taken in, seriously injured, by the Templar who had then healed him secretly. And today, he was cuddling up with Charles, wounded too. In the end, they seemed to both possess a lot more of commun points that they could have imagined.

After a few minutes, Erik also succumbed to the embrace of Morpheus, peaceful.


	5. Justice Is Done

The night passed without any unsollicitated awakening.

Had anyone entered in this room, they could have thought at the sight of the two young men holding each other in such a way that a very strong bond united them. They reflected such a soft and peaceful picture that it would be a crime to wake them up. And yet, it was knocks on the wood of the door that woke up the two soulmates. A feminine voice called the name of the young noble a couple of times. Erik stood quickly, taking care of not pushing around Charles, still sore.

  
“ Don't be scared Erik, it's a housemaid. A good woman at my service, her kindness is only matched by her loyalty. ” explained the young man. “ Open to her, I guarantee you that she will not tell anything about us. ”

  
Erik put on a white shirt that Charles had put at his disposal then stood up and went to open to the servant. The young woman behind the door seemed vaguely surprised to see a stranger in the room of her master. Still, she nodded respectfully to greet the man in front of her. Her hair were brown and fell on her shoulders, her eyes were two hazel orbs. Neither tall nor little, she was a beautiful woman even with her position as a housemaid.

  
“ Good morning Moira, ” said Charles, smiling to her. “ Did you sleep well ?  
\- Good morning Sir, yes, thank you. And you... My God... ”

  
Her sentence was interrupted when she noticed with horror the bruises covering the face and the arms of Charles, presently the only visible parts of his body. She took one step towards him, with a desolate look. However, she noted that the wounds of her young master had been dressed and protected with a lot of bandages. On the wounds, Erik had applied packs after having cautiously clean the impurities. On the numerous bruises that disfigured the young noble, the Assassin had put compresses soaked with alcohol, holding everything with bandages, kept voluntarily loose to not increase the initial pain. The housemaid turned towards the stranger.

  
“ I don't know how to thank you for the attention you devoted to my lord. ” she said to Erik.  
\- Don't thank me, it's normal. ” he answered. “ I can not tolerate or even think of acts of such cruelty. I suppose that you share my opinion, am I mistaken ?  
\- I... I don't need to have an opinion Sir, I only serve the Xavier-Marko's family.  
\- No one in this room is forbidding you to have one, isn't it Charles?  
\- Absolutely. ” added the young man. “ Moira, I consider you as my confidante and not as my servant.  
\- Mister Xavier, I...  
\- Begin by calling me Charles.  
\- Of course, if you wish so. ”

  
Embarrassed, Moira prefered to withdraw in the cooking room and devote herself to the preparation of breakfast as Charles and his guest readied themselves. The youngest went to the bathroom, basking in a warm shower that allowed him to relieve himself a little of the horrors of yesterday. He thought back at this night passed in the arms of the Assassin. The warm feeling of his naked masculine chest, against him, as his fingers played softly with his brown curls. This night had been restful and for the first time since years, Charles had felt safe.

 

―――――

 

Meanwhile, Erik had put on his Assassin's tunic and was reading the correspondence that he had stolen from Cain after he had killed him. It was in truth adressed to Kurt.

 

" Mister Marko,

It would seem that the studies of your stepson, Charles, have finally bear results. To found this institute was indeed an excellent idea. I now possess all the needed informations concerning the Apple of Eden. I would appreciate it if you could bring me the Piece soon, progress doesn't wait. I will send you tomorrow some of my men in order to secure your escort. I'm counting on you.

Forwarding you my most sincere regards,

S. Shaw, Grand Master of the Templar Order of London. "

 

The Apple, it was in the possession of the Xavier-Markos and soon, the most dangerous of London's Templar would seize it. Erik had to prevent it ; at all cost. He put away the correspondence sealed with the cross of the Order in his inside pocket then grabbed a quill and a sheet before letting the ink soaked tip dance on the paper.

 

“ Charles,

Please forgive my lack of courtesy but duty is calling. I came to London with a single goal and time lacks. I have to act. Please don't think that I dislike your company, far from it. Truthfully, it's the exact opposite. The events of yesterday strengthened my resolve, I must put a term to your torments. I am going to kill Kurt. I hope that you will not begrudge me for it. I can't let him beat you anymore. I can not stand to see you this wounded.

I will come back to you once my mission accomplished, holder of good news.  
Sincerely yours,

Erik. ”

 

He put down the quill and waited a few moments for the ink to dry before putting the paper on display on a small table where was resting the brooch of the Order, preciously kept in a jewellery box made of black velvet. He equipped himself with his weapons and fled through the window, reaching the roof. Up there, his sight was excellent and the guards would not come to move him out. He could focus on his goal : kill Kurt Marko and retrieve the Piece of Eden.

 

―――――

 

At this time, the Templar should be in his quarters situated in the west wing of the manor, preparing himself for his important meeting. Erik focused and used his eagle sight to locate his target. Who was pacing back and forth twisting and turning in his room, adorning himself with various accessories in the hope to please the Grand Master. The Assassin snickered then took a few moments to think about an attack plan that would allow him to infiltrate the building without being detected by the reinforced security.

A guard watched his only access point, armed with a sword and a rifle, and was scrutinizing the vicinity, alert. But despite his increased vigilance, he didn't see the knife that thrusted into his chest, directly reaching his heart. He fell almost instanly on the ground, slowly and silently dying. Erik got off the roof of bricks and retrieved his weapon, stuck in the now lifeless body of the guard.

He quickly looked around him with his eagle sight and noticed three guards stationed in the next room. Two were watching the windows and another was patrolling at the center. Erik leaned against a wall, hidden from the sight of the enemy, then opted for discretion and threw a smoke bomb inside, plunging its occupants into a thick screen of smoke. He took advantage of this diversion to kill the guards stationed by the windows with the help of his hidden blade then came closer to the third, remaining unmoving at the center of the room.

When the fog dispersed, the last watchman ran towards one of the bodies covering the ground that were lying in their own pool of blood. Erik, hidden behind a desk, crept behind him, trigerred his blade and sliced the throat of his victim. The scarlet and sticky fluid spurted and flowed on the ground, as did the guard at agony.

The Assassin wiped his blade then retracted it before going to the next room, that was unocccupied. He got through several rooms, every one as poorly decorated as the other. Gold decorations, tapestry of bad taste and luxurious furniture ; everything in this wing of the manor exuded pretention and disdain.

He disposed of the guards standing in his way then finally arrived in front of the door that separated him from the infamous Kurt Marko. He checked one last time that his target was indeed in the room before getting out of his bags two lock picks with which he broke the mechanism of the lock.

He opened the door discreetly , begging inwardly that it would not make any suspicious grating noise. Luckily, Kurt, standing by the window and turning his back to him, didn't hear him enter, way too busy keeping an eye out for his escort. Slowly and without any noise, Erik came closer to the man ; without warning he grasped his shoulder and made him face him, crushing instantly a hand against his mouth to stifle any scream. Kurt found himself pressed against the wall, unable to call for help. But even though his vulnerability, he shot Erik a haughty look full of disdain. He even began to snicker. The man definitely didn't possess an ounce of warmth or even humanity, he only inspired scorn.

With his free hand, the Irish sent a violent first directly in the abdomen of his victim that tore a groan of pain from him. Then a second one, and a knee punch in the belly. Finally, he put him on the floor and pressed his foot on his ribs. On the rug, Kurt was twisting with pain, held by the armed hand of his assailant under his throat.

  
“ Where is the Apple of Eden ? Speak !  
\- I will never speak Assassin !  
\- Then I'm going to hurt you until you beg me to kill you. ”

  
On those words, Erik thrusted the hidden blade in the arm of the Templar, twisting the steel in the skin, breaking tissues and letting the blood escape and tinting the material. The weapon seemed to cut through the skin with a surgical precision. Yet, even unable to move, the Templar stifled his scream of pain. As his target still didn't talk, he decided to pull out his blade to better attack with the sharp steel the left side that opened in a cut deep enough to make him scream this time.

  
“ The, the Apple, is at the Xavier's Institute, it is kept in a box at the center of the building ! Argh ! You... You will never retrieve it, it is closely watched !  
\- That we will see. ”

  
Erik ended his sentence before piercing through the carotid of his victim with his finely sharpened blade. The blood spurted and stained the tunic of the Assassin with a scarlet fluid. Kurt suffocated, in agony, his brain suddenly deprived of his precious oxygen. His eyes rolled back as his face became almost as red as the fluid staining him. Erik stood up, shooting a look of disgust at the dying man before leaving ; letting the man slowly soak the rugs with his blood.

As he was fleeing the area, Erik noticed that the private escort of the Grand Master had just arrived. For sure they would not take long to discover the lifeless body of Kurt. He had to act fast. He reached the nearest roof, situated at a safe distance from the manor, enough to be out of the reach of the guards. He glanced below. Had he not been covered with blood, he would have blend into the London's crowd but being this dirty, things were more complicated. He finally decided to stay on the roofs of the city for the furtivity they offered.

 

―――――

  
As he was about to set off, Erik felt a hand land on his shoulder. A warm and friendly hand. Surprised, he turned over briskly and faced the stranger ; who was not really one.

  
“ Logan ! What a surprise !  
\- I bet that you were not expecting to see me, didn't you ?!  
\- Not at all, it really pleases me my brother.  
\- Me too. ” carried on Logan. “ Erik, I am sorry for your parents...  
\- ... Thank you. But tell me what brings you here.  
\- I came to help you in your mission. Where are your investigations leading ?  
\- The Apple of Eden is in the Xavier's Institute, the Templars were going to deliver it to Shaw but I eliminated Kurt Marko before.  
\- Good. We have to retrieve it before them.  
\- Agreed, let's go.  
\- Oh, Erik, you should put on this outfit. ”

  
Logan hold a new tunic out to him, identical to the one that the Irish actually wore except that this one wasn't stained with blood and mud. Grateful for this attention, the Assassin put on the clean attire and offered a smile to his friend. With a look, they understood each other thoughts, put on their respective hoods then left the roofs of bricks and blended in the London's crowd that was gathering in the streets.

 

―――――

 

Well decided to accomplish their mission, they arrived before the Xavier's Institute then examined carefully every corner of the building. Indeed the place was closely watched, not with the usual guards but with Templars heavily armed. Assuredly, to get into the enclosure, an open conflict with the enemy was unavoidable. Erik and Logan then split up ; the Irish chose to enter by the back door of the Institute, the latter opted for a window.

The two Assassins managed to burst in the building quickly, neutralising the Templars with smoke bombs and hidden blade. They were now meandering in hallways and study rooms, their shadows sliding silently against the furniture. The unfortunate guards that crossed their path just had the time to see the hood of their killer before they fell on the ground, the steel thrusted into their skin.

 

―――――

  
Erik eventually arrived in the room where was kept the precious and so coveted Piece of Eden. Only, it was not on its reserved pedestal. Someone had moved or taken possession of it. The discovery made him grind his teeth. What if Kurt had lied and a second person was already on the way to deliver it to the Grand Master ? Was it too late ? Ffoosteps suddenly resonated in the room.

  
“ I fear that you're here too late Assassin. ” came a feminine voice, haughty and confident.  
“ How ? ”

  
Erik turned over and faced the stranger. In front of him, a young woman with blond curls falling on his back and breast stood. Her eyes shined with hate and contempt. At her buttonhole, the same red cross adorned her jacket and her right ring finger, the Templar ring highlighted her hand dressed in a thin black glove.

  
“ The Apple is not here anymore, and at this time, Master Shaw must be its new owner.  
\- The Pieces of Eden don't belong to the Templars.  
\- No more do they to the Assassins.  
\- Wrongly used they can provoke the fall of mankind. The Order only wishes to submit people and to reign over them. Your intentions are in no way nobles. Depriving people of their freedom is a crime.  
\- Because assassinating in the shadow innocent beings by following orders going against your ideals is a noble cause ? You, Assassins, don't care about circumstances, you kill your targets with cold blood without even asking yourselves why. Freedom leads to total chaos, this is why humanity needs to be led, otherwise it will never progress. And to do so, the world needs to be ridden of its nuisance. ”

  
The young woman grasped quickly the colt since then still in its sheath before shooting her enemy. An almost inaudible noise came out when she pulled the trigger. It was not a bullet that thrusted into the skin of the Assassin, but the needle of a dart. The needle diffused its product in the blood circulation of the Irish, spreading in his entire organism. Rapidly, he felt his body weakening and numbing. He fell on the floor of the Institute, unable to use his strengh, completely vulnerable. His eyelids became heavy as he fought against the soporific drug that prevented any struggle. Unable to resist, Erik fell in a deep sleep, with a last thought for his critic situation.

The Templar snickered, a smirk stretching her lips, then brandished a second revolver, lethal this time, and aimed it at the head of the man now lying on the floor. The forefinger put on the trigger, she was about to fire when a steel blade sliced her carotid in the utmost silence. She faced her assaillant and discovered with stupor a second Assassin, taller and more imposing than the one she had just neutralised.

Suddenly lacking oxygen, she fell heavily on the somptuous ivory rug of the room, her blood soaking little by little the fabric with a scarlet and sticky liquid. Hands put on her gaping throat that bled abundantly, she was dying without looking away from her murderer. At death's gate, she still wore this haughty and wicked smirk.

She had accomplished her mission, Charles had taken the Apple to the Grand Master. Her diversion had been perfect and the Assassins had fallen in her trap. Her eyes became glazed and void, lifeless. The shine of pride had disappeared, her last breath lost in the air. Raven Darkholme stayed faithful to the Order until the end, and she just passed away here, at the Xavier's Institute, bathed in a sticky pool and the sour smell of blood.


	6. May The Father Of Understanding Guide Us

Wearing his most beautiful clothes, Charles dived into the cart, taking place on a seat made of burgundy velvet ; the inside was made of ebony and oak and purple curtains. The door shut, plunging the young noble in darkness. The coach driver started, ordering to his horses to trot, followed closely by three armed Templars, steady on their mounts.

The escort went through the streets of London, the shod hooves clicking against the cobblestones at places, mixing with the mud at others. Charles watched the landscape pass through the window. The sun waned in the sky, setting it alight with a warm and soft gold colour. Illuminated by a beam of sun, the cross in the buttonhole of the Templar shined proudly.

He glanced at the box put on his right, a box cut in wood and adorned with a few gold decorations. Inside was the Apple of Eden, precious piece greedly covoted. She didn't possess anymore any secret to surrender to Charles, his studies had been sucessful in every way. Soon, he would give the artefact to the Grand Master and would honour the promise he had one day made to his mother. The one to never fail his duty as an ally of the Templars. His sister, Raven, had received the precious title of Knight of the Templar Order and for now, Charles himself remained an important and crucial ally to the cause.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even realised that the coach driver had just stopped the cart. They had reached their destination. The noble grabbed the box, firmly holding it and dissimulating it in the tails of his coat. Surrounded by his bodyguards, he glanced quickly at the building ; an imposing manor that stood on many floors spreading on more than a hundred meters. It was almost certain that its surface area exceeded the one of his own manor.

Charles breathed deaply before walking towards the entrance and diving inside, where he was guided by Templars towards a big lounge deprived of heat. The furniture didn't possess anything welcoming nor convivial, it was cold and rough.

He had taken advantage of this short visit to make sure of the security of the place. Marksmen were stationed at the windows and guards watched every room, hand on the guard of their blade, patrolling with the greatest attention. It would be difficult for a stranger to infiltrate the building without being detected.

A few minutes later, Charles was joined by Sebastian Shaw himself, closely watched by an increased security. The man was at the same time mysterious and troubling, his eyes, shining with mischief, were cold and without mercy. Around his neck hanged the cross of the Order, reminder of his position. He offered him a sinister smile, proud.

  
“ Good morning Master Xavier, ” he began.  
“ Grand Master, ” answered Charles with utmost politeness. “ Here is what you have asked me for, the Apple of Eden. ” he added, oustreching the precious box towards the man.  
“ Finally... ”

  
Shaw grabbed it, opening the lid to reveal the artefact. It was resting on a jewerlly box made of black velvet. With one hand, he catched the relic and brandished it before him. A beam of light reflected on the object, higlighting its gold decorations. It seemed to glow in the hand of the Templar, projecting strange symbols on the walls in a majestuous gold colour. The Grand Master enjoyed the show.

  
“ The Order searched for these Pieces for so long, and now we finally possess one. It's wonderful. “ said the Templar before turning towards Charles. “ Master Xavier, you proved your loyalty to our cause during all these years without fail, we could never have reach such results without your precious help. Time has come to reward your loyalty. ”

  
Shaw unsheated his sword and put the tip of the blade on the ground. The guard made of metal was adorned with the symbol of the Templars. Charles felt his heart beating faster in his chest in his excitation.

  
“ Do you swear to respect the precepts of our Order, and everything we protect ? ” began Shaw.  
“ I swear it. ” answered Charles without hesitation.  
“ To never reveal our secrets or disclose the true nature of our deeds ?  
\- I swear it.  
\- To stay faithful to us in all circumstances until the death ?  
\- I swear it.  
\- You are now one of us Master Xavier, I hereby declare you Knight of the Templar Order. May the Father of Understanding guide us.  
\- May the Father of Understanding guide us.  
\- Give me your hand. ”

  
The Grand Master took hold of the outstreched hand and grabbed the ring that one of his men had brought. He slided it on the right ring finger of Charles then released his hand. Without taking his eyes off him, he smiled at him.

  
“ Together, we shall usher in the dawn of a New World, where the peace will prosper. ”

  
The new Templar gave him back his smile before contemplating the Templar ring that adorned graciously his hand, emphasising his oath of allegiance to his kind. He jubilated inwardly, he had finally honoured his promise. Moreover, he could now glance the possibility of a peace he never would have thought possible before, the end of conflicts and this, thanks to his brothers and sisters.

 

―――――

  
He stayed a few hours at Shaw's manor, sharing one or two cups of tea while discussing the usage of the Piece, as well about the glorious future of the english people. Then he went back to the cart that took him to his manor. Seated and his gaze stuck on the outside, he thought of his dearly beloved sister, he was really impatient to tell her the new. Without doubt, she would be delighted by it, they were both so close to each other.

They didn't share the same blood, but the bond that united them was so strong that it was almost the same. Raven had been adopted by the late Sharon Xavier, at the time when her deceased and dearly husband was still alive. She had raised her as her own daughter and had taught her the way of the Templars. The young woman had then joined the ranks of the Order at her majority, putting her mastery of blades and her perspicacity in favour of the Templars soldiers with whom she fought beside. She served the cause with dignity . Yes, he couldn't wait to announce this great new to Raven.

 

―――――

 

It was Moira that welcomed him back at the manor. The young woman was waiting for him at the threshold. Charles noticed quickly the serious air that she tried in every way to dissimulate, without success. She greeted him, offering him an almost forced smile, silent witness of her pain.

  
“ Welcome back Mister Xavier, ” began the servant. “ Was your appointment profitable ?  
\- More than you can imagine Moira, thanks.  
\- Your dinner waits for you in the dining room.  
\- My sister Raven, will she join us ?  
\- Mister... I, I must tell you something about Miss Darkholme.  
\- Did something happen to her ? Is she fine ?  
\- Follow me please, the living room will be more suitable for this talk. ”

  
Charles followed the housemaid in the big living room. Usually, he never came here except the family recceived important guests. He skillfully avoided to cross the path of Kurt and Cain. However his mind stayed focused on his sister, the words of Moira had created a weight at the bottom of his stomach. A bad pressentiment was overcoming him and he really hoped to be wrong.

  
He took place in an armchair covered with leather, Moira sat down in front of him. Her sad look had increased as she seemed to be trying to motivate herself to continue the conversation.

  
“ I'm listening to you Moira, ” began the noble, breaking the silence, “ please carry on.  
\- Miss Darkholme, your sister... has been found lifeless at the Xavier's Institute during your absence...  
\- How ?  
\- Hank McCoy found her, lying in her own blood...  
\- No, it's impossible...  
\- I am really sorry Sir... I must also inform you that Mister Kurt, your stepfather, has also succumbed to his murderer.  
\- ... Who ? ” he said, astounded.  
“ Nobody knows, however the wound at the throat of your sister clearly proves that she has been killed with cold blood.  
\- Assassins... ” whispered Charles to himself.  
“ You were saying ?  
\- Nothing. Thank you for warning me.  
\- It is my duty Master Xavier.  
\- Could you leave me alone a moment ?  
\- Of course, I will be in the dining room if you need me.  
\- Thank you... ”

  
Moira left the living room, going back to the dining room where the dinner, until then steaming, had lost its heat and its delicious smell. The young woman could not imagine the pain that must feel her Master at this instant.

 

―――――

  
Charles had not move for an inch, absolutely stupefied. He didn't realise the situation. His sister, Raven, cowardly killed by some Assassins, those with whom he had thought to ally for a moment. He had been so naive to believe in such utopias.

Bitterness was slowly overwhelming him, heaving his heart. Sadness and anger overcame his entire body. His tense fists held the leather of the armrests as his frail fleshly sheath was shaking with spasms ; the perceptible sobs proof of the tremendous pain tearing him apart. Then warm tears fell down his cheeks, wetting his gorgeous blue eyes with a salty fluid. Tears mixed with anger, hate and deep sadness. His jaw clenched, the wrecking sounds of his pain resonated in the room as he let his feelings overwhelm him, exteriorize themselves. He was vulnerable, weak.

He had just lost Raven, the only woman that ever had any importance for him, the one that gave him numerous reasons not to break before the torture of his stepfather and Cain. She had supported him during all these years without fail. It was Raven that taught him to master the blade, it was her that incited him to found and lead the Xavier's Institute. This splendid young woman, brave, strong, daring, with a rebel soul, had been his reason for living, a corner of light in a world made of darkness and obscurity. She had been his motivation, his model, his pride. He had sworn to protect her at whatever cost. She had not deserved such an end.

A desire of vengeance slowly rised in his wounded mind ; the Assassins would pay the price. Charles cursed the conflict that opposed Templars and Assassins. Had it not existed, nothing of that would have happened.

His eyes, veiled by tears, landed on the Templar ring that he now wore at his finger, remiding him son oath of allegiance. He belonged to the Templars and protected the cause. The Assassins only swore by violence, suppressing the life of those that were only following the orders of their superiors ; innocents in short. They only brought chaos and anarchy. It had to cease.

 

―――――

 

Erik had gone back to the inn, accompanied of Logan. They both shared the room, Logan using the settee as a makeshift bed. They were at the bar of the establishment, enjoying a break from their mission. Their respective hoods resting on their shoulders, they both seemed tired. Seated in a corner of the room, they were developping a plan to retrieve the artefact and remove if from the hands of their enemies. The two Assassins had just eliminated paws on the chessboard of the Grand Master ; Cain, Kurt, and Raven. Sebastian Shaw was their next target. Time pressed, they only had a few more days before the Templars used the Apple to crush free will. Hidden from indiscreet ears, they were sipping their beers while discussing infiltration when the old woman of the front desk approached them.

  
“ Mister Lehnsherr, sorry to bother you, but I was entrusted with the task of giving you this letter. ” she said.

  
The Irish took the envelope without forgetting to thank the innkeeper and discovered the seal of the Templars on the paper displaying his name. He broke the cold wax and revealed the paper dissimulated inside. The writing was meticulous, the hand-written curves inscribed on the sheet reflected their author.

  
“ My dearest Erik,

I miss your presence ; your warmth and your kindess seem so distant to me, as if they had only been a sweet dream. I would so need your reassurance right now. My heart bleeds and my entire being screams with pain. My sister, Raven, my dear and lovely sister has been cowardly assassinated. I feel like a part of my soul was torn from me. This soul, today, needs your arms, your strengh.

I am grateful for the care you took of me the other day, I am afraid I will never be able to return the favour, you have eliminated the cause of my suffering, the persecutor that tortured me all those years. Thank you Erik.

I will wait for you this evening, I will let my window open.  
Yours,  
Charles. ”

  
The Assassin was flabbergasted, the Templar woman that Logan and himself had killed turned out to be Charles' sister. Indeed when he had investigated his different targets he had heard about it, but this information had slipped from his mind in the end. Guilt overcame suddenly Erik, he was in a certain way responsible for the pain of his beloved. Uneasy, he unfolded himself from his wooden chair, creaking, under the astonished eyes of his brother in arms. Without a word, he left the place and went towards the Xavier's manor. Logan understood the silent message and stayed at the inn, thinking of a plan.

 

―――――

 

Charles was in his room, lit by some candlesticks and solitary candles. It was around 11pm and outside, the nocturnal star threw his mysterious light on the city, illuminating the facades of the manor. The Templar had kept his clothes of the day. His red and swollen eyes, painful reminders of his sister's death that he had learned only hours before. He stood there, tall on his balcony, leaning on the guardrail, enjoying the fresh air that whipped his tired face, making his brown curls flit. His hands, resting on the guardrail, were tense, shaking. He was waiting for someone. He had only needed a few minutes to write his letter and to send one of his man to carry it to its recipient. Now Charles hoped that the man would answer positively to his invitation.

 

―――――

 

Erik located Charles easily, leaned on his balcony, lit by the beams of the moon. The shadows of the night obscured his face but the Assassin could clearly read his pain, even at such distance.

He slipped through his window, making him flinch. He had removed his hood so Charles could admire his face illuminated by the moon. As soon as their eyes met, the Templar threw himself in his arms. Arms that tightened around him in a tender and kind embrace. Erik wished to comfort Charles, he wanted to ease his pain. He threaded a hand in his brown curls and stroked them, lovingly. They remained entangled until the young noble lightly pulled back

Erik took delicately hold of his face with his two hands, the heat of them landing on the freshness and dampness of his cheeks. Charles lifted his eyes and stared right at him. He met two steely eyes, filled with tenderness and affection. Never did they clearly confess their feelings for each other, but in this moment, they shone as an evidence in the eyes of Erik. This exchange allowed Charles to forget all his torments for a few seconds, a soft warmth spreading inside him, settling down in his heart and at the bottom of his stomach. The Irish softly bent before putting a tender kiss on the pink lips of the noble ; a simple and intimate gesture that sent a wave of comfort in the body of Charles. It only lasted for some instants before the Templar put an end to it and withdrew.

  
“ Thank you for coming Erik. ” he whispered feebly.  
\- Don't thank me Charles.  
\- I have to talk to you... ” he added, letting his guest enter the room, standing before him with his arms folded.

  
Erik guessed by his posture that his lover readied himself to say something particularly tiresome. He also noticed the ring at his right ring finger ; as Charles noticed his glance.

  
“ Yes, I joined the Order a little earlier in the day. The Grand Master acknowleged my efforts and my loyalty and named me Knight.  
\- You gave him the Apple, didn't you ? I thought that Kurt was the one tasked with this mission.  
\- That was before you decided to kill him. After reading your note, I chose to take his place and to deliver it.  
\- Are you conscious of the consequences for our freedom ?  
\- Do you believe me a fool ? I studied the Pieces of Eden, I knew the reach of their power. Which is why I gave it to the only one I consider able to bring peace. Violence will be eradicated and the Assassins will be no exception, in this way you will cease to eliminate innocents.  
\- By acting like this, you will submit people to your authority. Freedom leads to peace.  
\- You are mistaken, freedom is an invitation to anarchy and chaos. ” retorted Charles.  
“ It's wrong.  
\- Erik, I need to know, did you or did you not assassinate my sister ?  
\- I...  
\- Tell me the truth. Yes or no ? ”

  
Erik stayed silent, caught unprepared by this question. What should he answer ? He could not lie, Charles deserved better than a vulgar lie. He had the right to know the truth and the Irish had to take in on himself. _Everything is permitted_. He remembered this precept of the creed that stipulated that the Assassins were indeed limitless but that every action had consequences and that they had to live with them, whether glorious or tragic. Erik had to tell him. He would almost certainly lose the trust of Charles but maybe he would be forgiven one day.

  
“ Yes. ” he confessed finally.  
“ Don't lie to me.  
\- It's the truth Charles.  
\- One of the Institute's researcher saw you fall down on the floor. He saw your accomplice cut her throat without any hesitation. Tell me his name.  
\- I can't...  
\- I want his name !  
\- I will not give it to you Charles !  
\- You cowardly killed my sister, my only remaining family.  
\- Charles... I am sorry... ” said Erik, coming closer to take his hand, in vain.  
“ Don't touch me ! ” yelled Charles. “ I don't want your apologies, the damage is done. Get out, leave this room !  
\- Listen to me.  
\- Disappear ! And if you dare to come back to my manor, know that you will be welcomed and treated as a threat.  
\- Charles, I...  
\- This is where our paths split up Erik. Get out ! ”

  
The Assassin didn't have to be told one more time and fled through the window. He left the area, perched on a roof. The window of the noble shut behind him and the light in the room gradually died, filling with darkness. The voice of Charles resonated in his mind as an unceasing litany. His broken voice, filled with sadness and deception, the tears that had fallen from his gorgeous eyes, compressed his heart. He had broken this man, he had made him suffer and nothing would fix his mistake.

 

―――――

 

Charles had sat down on his bed, swallowing at once a glass of scotch, the alcohol deliciously burning his throat in a soft invigorating heat. He put down the crystal container on a small table before removing his clothes until only his shirt remained. Then, he cautiously put away his brooch and his Templar ring in a jewerlly box made of velvet before he lied down on his mattress.

His heart was heavy, smashed to smithereens ; his breathing harsh, choked by his pain. He felt empty, unable to feel any positive feeling, as a husk devoided of soul. In one day, he had lost his sister, Raven, and the one that had stolen his heart. Betrayed deeply by the one he had trusted, Charles swore to himself to eliminate the Assassin of his sister.

Sleep didn't come to Charles this night, his mind wandering in undefined lands, lost in memories and resentment.

Nothing would ever be the same again between Charles and Erik.  
They just went from the status of lovers and allies to the one of enemies.


	7. It's A Trap !

An heavy silence reigned in the room that the two Assassins shared, the atmosphere heavy and particularly tense. Logan was sleeping since some hours now, enjoying a well-deserved rest. Erik, for himself, stood before the window of the room. No expression crossed his face, he was empty of any emotion ; even though, inwardly, the Assassin was broken.

His grey eyes witnessed the fall of the rain, soaking the city with ice cold water. He opened the window, taking the precaution to shut it behind him, before stepping outside, climbing the front of the inn to reach its roof.

On the roof, Erik stood tall, impassive, contemplating the sleeping city. The rain soaked his face and body, freezing his skin. His heart and soul had both lost their warmth so the bite of cold heralding the arrival of winter didn't matter ; Erik didn't care in the least.

He lifted his eyes towards the sky, receiving the rain with full force. Drenched like that, his tears were invisible, as his pain echoed in his entire being, trying to express itself. He would have like to scream with rage, yell his anger against this absurd and never-ending conflict that opposed the two factions. That conflict that rendered impossible alliance and romance.

If a relation with a Templar had formerly been unthinkable for him, meeting Charles had challenged his conception of the war that opposed them. The two factions were fighting for the same cause, peace and progress. Even if the methods differed maybe the Templars and Assassins could find a common ground and cease to fight each others until death occured. And if a truce was decided, would relations between the two factions change ?

No. Such a conflict could not cease to be with a simple mutual deal. The two factions fought each other since way too long, nothing would stop the war. The were doomed to fight forever. And their members, to hate each other until the end.

Erik clenched his fists, his jaw tense. The frozen water now soaked his Assassin dress, engulfing his entire body in a wet sensation. But he didn't even notice all that. He was expelling his anger and his pain. He had just lost the one he loved, the so lovely being with whom he had finally found peace. He had just made of him an enemy. By his mistake, with the assassination of Raven, his lover had turned his back to him. And nothing would fix that.

Drenched and frozen by the cold of the end of autumn, Erik got off the roof and went back to his room, leaving simply his rain's soaked dress before collapsing on the bed. Sleep didn't come to him this night.

 

―――――

  
Alone in his huge room, Charles was turning over in his sheets, unable to fall asleep. Unable to put at ease his broken soul. He was angry, his entire being screamed for vengeance, of betrayal. He would only find peace once the assassin of his sister would be dead. Raven had to be avenged, brother and sister had sworn to each other. United and fusionnels until the death, if one were to be kill the other would do anything in his power to guarantee the killer a torture so slow and painful that even death would be more pleasant. So instead of losing some precious time trying to find a nonexistent sleep, he lifted himself up in his bed and thought of a way to obtain vengeance. In his mind consumed by rage, a deadly plan was drawn.

Outside, the thunder rolled and the sky unleashed its bolts of lightning. But on the horizon, a storm was coming.

 

―――――

 

The next day, the young noble was seated in the guest lounge, sipping a cup of tea in the company of another man ; of unremarkable appearance, he had a receding hairline and a stubble graced his face. He remained nonetheless elegant, dressed adequately for his appointment with Charles. He too wore the Templar ring on his right ring finger.

  
“ That is why I need you. ” said Charles. “ We can not let the Assassins take control of this city. And for this we have to kill them one by one.  
\- You wish that I make use of my position of employee and friend of Mister Kenway in order to send the Assassin a letter signed by his hand and shut with his seal ? And that in the goal of setting a trap for him ?  
\- Exactly.  
\- It seems to me like an excellent plan. Be assured that the letter will be send this afternoon, Master Xavier.  
\- Make sure that Edward doesn't suspect our activities.  
\- He will not, don't worry.  
\- I am counting on you Master Birch. ”

  
They continued their conversation, Charles indicating to his second the needed informations to set the trap. With Birch knowing the hour and place of the appointment as well as the reason of the meeting he now only had to begin the writing of the letter.

 

―――――

  
The two men ended their appointment and their cup of tea then walked towards the entrance of the manor.

  
“ I'm immediately going at Queen Ann's Square to write your letter then send it to its recipient.  
\- Thank you for your help, and take care of yourself. ”

  
The man greeted him with a respectful nod, before getting in the cart that would take him to the Kenway's manor. Reginald Birch had joined the Templar Order several years ago. At the same time, he mixed with Edward Kenway, former famous pirate and Assassin, who was totally unaware of the status of Reginald, he didn't know that a Templar regularly visited him.

Birch secretly covoted the journal in which were written down informations about the First Civilisation and The Ones Who Came Before. Which is why the man had got closer to the family, more particularly with Jennifer Scott, the daughter of Edward, despite her refusal to his courting. Edward considered Reginald as a redoubtable and sucessful business man, but also honourable. Assuredly, it would be easy to obtain a signature without rising any suspicion, the Templar knew exactly how he would proceed.

 

―――――

 

Later in the middle of the afternoon, Logan received the visit of a mysterous messenger, wearing the dress of the Assassins, who gave him a letter before disappearing as fast as he had appeared, without any explication. Never would have Logan guess that he was in reality a former Assassin now loyal to the ranks of the enemy. A traitor to the Brotherhood, a Templar.

The Assassin observed the letter a few moments, he didn't recognised the writing of its owner, however the mark of the wax that sealed it was familiar to him : the symbol of the Assassin. He opened the envelope and extracted cautiously the paper folded inside.

After a fast but attentive reading, he discovered the identity of the person. Edward Kenway wished to meet him to discuss of a potential alliance with the irish Brotherhood in order to eradicate the threat of the Templars weighting on the city of London. He want to speak from one leader to another. Very well. This alliance seemed like an opportunity to grasp.

The appointment would take place in less that one hour, and Erik had gone on a reconnaissance mission that would prove to be a major asset during the attack against Shaw. Logan would then go to meet Edward alone.

 

―――――

 

4 pm chimed when Logan arrived at the foot of the Saint Paul Church, as Edward l'avait indiqué dans sa lettre. The former pirate didn't seem to be here yet. Inwardly, Logan couldn't wait to meet the great Edward Kenway. He had heard about the welsh numerous times, and praises were adressed to him, notably concerning his naval prowesses. Yes, the Assassin really wanted to meet this man.

Fifteen minutes passed by and still no one came. Strange. He used his eagle sights and what he discovered immobilised him. All around him, hidden Templars soldiers and marksmen had appeared and surrounded him, their weapons now aimed at him, ready to make-fire. He had fallen in a trap. There had never been any proposition of alliance, the letter had only been a lie and the master piece of a Machiavellian puzzle.

Charles appeared in the middle of the soldiers, his arms folded behind his back, a smirk stretching his lips. The Templar seemed satisfied of the efficiency of his plan. Logan shot him a disdainful and almost animal glare, then a small smart laugh escaped him.

  
“ I know perfectly why you are here, Mister Xavier. ” began Logan.  
“ I don't doubt it.  
\- But don't wait for any excuses, I don't regret my deeds. Vermine of your kind must be eliminated.  
\- As the Assassins have to die. Beginning with you. ” finished Charles before triggering the attack with a movement of his hand.

  
The soldiers rushed towards their target, all weapons out and aimed at the Assassin. The noise of blades knocking together echoed against the walls of the church as did the distinctive detonation of the muskets. Logan avoided skillfully the shooting and the sharp enemy's steel, diving his hidden blade in the throat of a guard, running through another with his sword. Blood spurted, staining the cobblestones with a sticky scarlet fluid. The lifeless or dying bodies of the soldiers began to pile up on the raw ground, at the center of a pool of blood and guts.

However, Logan was displaying signs of weakness. Numerous wounds were slowing some of his movements. One of the guard had seriously cut the hand holding his sword, rendering his attacks difficult. A bullet wound made his right side suffr and ribs certainly broken reminded him his critical state. He could not win, not when he was alone against an entire army.

He avoided a new salvo of muskets, using a soldier as a human shield, before slicing the throat of another. Unfortunately, he didn't see coming the musket that hit him violently on the back of the head. The impact was so intense that he fell on the ground, unconscious.

Charles came closer to him, towering over him. He would obtain vengeance really soon. He ordered his men to tie the hands and legs of the Assassin with chains before leading them towards the Tower of London. Charles made sure that the murderer of his sister was tied in the secret underground of the Tower. That basement was in a certain way the lair of the Templars. It was in this place that the prisoners were locked and tortured. Logan would be no exception to the rule.

―――――

 

Erik came back to the inn at the beginning of the evening, his mission had proved to be more complicated than planned. Shaw had heavily reinforced the security of the place and the Assassin had soon be detected. Followed then some blood effusion with the guards that had opposed him. Luckily, none of them had had the time to raise alarm, Erik had neutralised them before. He didn't manage to locate the place where was kept the Apple of Eden, but he now knew a section of the place.

He was surprised to not find his friend but he supposed that the latter had left to enjoy a glass in pleasant company. Maybe ought he to do the same ? It would perhaps help him to forget Charles and the conflict that opposed them. It would perhaps allow him to forget that his erstwhile lover was a Templar and that, sooner or later, he would have to kill him.


	8. Truce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for torture

**December 4th 1733, Tower of London.**

 

Logan had now been kept prisoner in this infernal prison for 24 hours, detained by his worst enemies. The Templars had proved to be cunning and the trap had closed on the Assassin without him being able to discover the trickery.

24 hours that he only heard humiliating insults about him and his peers, receiving punches, each more painful then the last, his ribs constantly reminding him their broken state. His wrists and ankles were tied with chains that restrained his aggressiveness. His face was covered with bruises and cuts, some dating of the battle of Saint-Paul, other fresher, proof of an obvious torture. Moreover, a darkened eye only served to reinforce his wild aspect. But despite the pain, he remained silent, refusing to give such satisfaction to his enemies.

A man stood before him, wearing a white shirt, stained with blood at places, his rolled up sleeves revealing muscular forearms. The man held an iron bar in his hands, staring at the prisoner with hostility.

  
“ Once again : where is Erik Lehnsherr ? ”

  
Logan didn't say anything, glaring defiantly at the man. It gained him a new blow of the iron bar on his right side. A groan of pain escaped him before he spit blood on the shoes on the Templar.

  
“ I think you don't realise the critical situation you are into. You should talk instead of struggling. ”

  
Another mischievous look and he received a fist in his jaw this time. He would not talk. He didn't know how the Templars had obtained their names but the traitor had to be flushed out. For now, he had to stay silent, they could absolutely not reveal the place that the London's Assassins used as a hideout. In the shadow, an attack was brewing and, at this time, Erik should be gathering their brothers and sisters.

  
“ Well, it seems that you are not inclined to talk so we will try something way less pleasant. Maybe you will find your tongue then. ”

  
The Templar moved away from Logan a few instants to put on a thick pair of gloves. He grabbed a bigger iron bar and dived the tip in the fire before coming back before the prisoner.

  
“ I'm giving you one last chance : where are Erik and the rest of your kind ? ”

  
Another silence. The red iron burned the wounded skin of the Assassin and elicited a groan of pain from him. The sensation was unbearable, indefinable. Logan lifted his eyes towards his torturer.

  
“ I will never talk. ” he answered.  
“ Perfect, in this case I will be able to play with you. ”

  
New burning bite of the iron against his raw skin. New groan. The Templars were masters in the art of torture, he had to grant them this point. He was about to insult the man in front of him when a second one bursted inside the room, followed by two guards. Reginald Birch. He stood before the Assassin, impassive.

  
“ Logan I suppose. ” began Reginald. “ I come at the request of Master Shaw. I have a proposition for you. ”

  
Logan lifted an eyebrow, cautious. The man didn't inspire him any trust, he seemed manipulative and sly.

  
“ Your Grand Master must be really desperate to send his watchdogs negociate. ” said Logan mockingly.  
“ If I were you I would avoid such remarks. Whatever. I offer you the possibility to save your brothers and sisters and to avoid any more bloodbath.  
\- What do you ask for in exchange ?  
\- That you and the Assassins don't interfere in our affairs anymore.  
\- And if I refuse ?  
\- It's in your interest to accept my offer. Refusing would break out an open war between our factions.  
\- You will never win.  
\- We are in possession of the Apple of Eden, you should as well acknowledge your defeat right now, it would probably limit the collateral damages.  
\- Go tell your Grand Master that we refuse to submit and that he better choose his epitaph. The same goes for you. ”

  
This time, Reginald couldn't resist and threw violently his fist in the already broken jaw of Logan, who felt the bones crack even more under the pressure. The Assassin stifled a groan of pain before shooting a disdainful look at the Templar. The latter walked away from the place, leaving the prisoner alone with his persecutor. The torture didn't matter, Logan would endure it as long as possible, enough to allow Erik to gather their allies.

 

―――――

 

Erik stood in equilibrium on the branchs of a tree. From such a height, his sharp sight reached the entirety of the manor standing before him. His pocket watch displayed past 4 pm and the sun had begun its slow descent in the sky, illuminating the back of the manor and bringing out the impressive shadow of the building. A cart was stopped before it and the coach driver seemed to wait for its inhabitants.

Erik made sure that there was not any danger before getting off his platform, prefering to join the crowd on the ground. As a precaution he removed his hood and moved towards the door of the manor. He knocked three times. A woman came to open the door ; she wore a servant outfit, her graying hair were tied in bun. She had a severe air, however, a smile appeared on her face when she discovered the stranger.

  
“ Good morning Sir, what is taking you here ? ” enquired politely the maid.  
“ I would like to talk with your Master, Mister Kenway. ” answered Erik as courteously.  
“ Who shall I announce ?  
\- Erik Lehnsherr, a “ brother ”.  
\- Good, please excuse me, I will come back soon. ”

  
Erik nodded and waited on the threshold. Before the manor, a little fountain ran, playing a soft and melodious sound accompanying the one of the hooves of the horses and their carriage travelling across the cobblestones streets of London. Some trees bared by the cold of the incoming winter, stood proudly, seeming to ally against the cold bite of the beginning of december.

He was still contemplating the landscape when the maid came back.

  
“ Master Kenway is ready to receive you, follow me please. ” she said before inviting his guest to enter in the building.

  
The Irish discovered a perfectly maintained manor, decorated with dainty furniture. No gold decorations, no unaffordable pieces of furniture, no tapestries of bad taste, no, nothing of that. The hallways gave way to different rooms ; cooking room, guest rooms, private rooms, office.

Erik crossed paths with a young woman, seemingly twenty, with long black hair, finely styled, and with eyes as dark. The coldness emanating from her unsettled Erik a little. She didn't acknowledge their guest and went through the hallway without saying a word to anyone.

He finally arrived in a big room, a lounge probably, in which a woman was seated, wearing a somptuous dress, the sort that you only wear for special occasions. Right in front of her, a young boy not much older than ten, with short brown hair, was talking with her, a beaming smile on his face. He was really elegant, dressed in a cream jacket, a sea blue coat adorned with golden embroideries, and shoes highlighted with a silver buckle. A man, Edward Kenway, certainly the father, stood when Erik entered the room. His blond hair was tied in a ponytail at the back of his head, and as every member of his family, his outfit reflected the manor, exuding delicacy and elegance.

All eyes turned towards the stranger, including the blue one of the young boy ; two bright orbs reflecting the ardour and enthusiasm of youth, but as the same time, a great maturity and innocence. Erik greeted respectuously the three persons before facing Edward. They had to talk. Lady Kenway understood quickly and left the room, leaving the man to theirselves. Only a little being remained.

  
“ Haytham, ” said Edward to his progeny, “ will you please let your father discuss business ?  
\- I am big, can I not stay ? ” protested said Haytham.  
“ In a few years, you will, but for now go finish to ready yourself. You would not wish for us to be late for the Opera ?  
\- Oh no Father ! ” retorted the boy before turning towards Erik. “ I am Haytham Kenway !  
\- And I am Erik Lehnsherr. ” answered the Assassin with a warm and honest smile.  
“ Glad to meet you !  
\- As I am, what are you going to watch at the opera house tonight ?  
\- The Beggar's Opera, Father and Mother are taking Jenny and I there for my birthday.  
\- Well happy birthday, how old are you ?  
\- I am eight years old mister Lehnsherr.  
\- You are a big boy, and surely as strong as your father.  
\- I am far from being as strong as him, but one day, I will be even better !  
\- I absolutely don't doubt it. ” finished Erik.  
“ Haytham, can you leave us alone please ? ” said Edward.

  
Haytham nodded and outstreched a hand to Erik that accepted it with pleasure, shaking it friendly before looking at the young boy moving away, closing the door behind him. Edward invited his guest to settle down in one of the armchairs.

  
“ I'm listening to you Mister Lehnsherr.  
\- Firstly, thank you for receiving me, and please, call me Erik.  
\- It is nothing, and Haytham likes to receive guests.  
\- I indeed noticed this. ” continued the Irish, pausing for a moment. “ Mister Kenway...  
\- Edward please, we are brothers. ” cut him off the former pirate.  
“ Edward, we need you, the Brotherhood needs you. The Templars are in possession of the Apple of Eden and are ready to use it. If we do nothing, the freedom of mankind will soon be destroyed.  
\- Yes I know the power of these artefacts.  
\- The Assassins need you, the attack is imminent.  
\- And you will need as many allies as possible isn't it ?  
\- If we wish to have a chance to prevent such scenario to happen, yes.  
\- Listen Erik... I ceased to go to the field a few years ago now in order to devote myself to my family. I can not take the risk to lose them, neither to expose them to any kind of danger. I only inform the Brotherhood of the strategics moves of the Templars.  
\- I perfectly understand...  
\- Nonetheless, I will deliver your request to our brothers and sisters of London, they will help you.  
\- Thanks Edward.  
\- Retrieve the Apple and protect London from the grip of the Templars. I will relay your message tonight, be sure of it.  
\- I don't know how to thank you.  
\- You don't have to, I have been an Assasin too. Even if I was not the most exemplary.  
\- You are a model role for our young recrues, as Ezio Auditore had been for his.  
\- I am flattered. ” said the man as he stood up. “ Do you wish to join us for tea ?  
\- I thank you but duty is calling. It has been a pleasure Edward, I'm looking forward to seeing you again.  
\- You will always be welcome here. ”

  
Erik greeted one last time the former Assassin before leaving the place, this time by the door situated at the back of the manor. This meeting had been pleasant, the Kenway's family was very agreeable and Erik wished that misfortune never knocked at their door. Lady Kenway was a charming woman, Edward, a wise and honourable man. However he didn't really know what to think about Jenny, the daughter of Edward and half-sister of Haytham. As for the latter, he emitted a great maturity despite his young age. Assuredly, he would be the worthy successor of his father and would become an excellent Assassin if future directed him this way.

―――――

 

The Irish put his hood back on, blending in the crowd. Darkness began to rise, bringing with it the cold air of winter's nights. He thought for a few instants, his soul was screaming at him to get to the Xavier's manor. Maybe Charles had calm down with the capture of the Assassin ; Erik certainly hoped so. He knew perfectly well that the Templar was the one responsible for the capture of Logan, he knew that a spy had revealed him his name. The Templars had eyes and ears absolutely everywhere, all over the city and in the entire world. Charles may had threatened him but, deep inside, he probably suffered of their separation.

As he finally decided to pay a courtesy visit to Charles, Erik thought again of Logan, he begged inwardly for his friend to be fine. Even if Templars needed him alive for the negotiations, he knew the methods that they used to obtain the informations they wanted. Logan would say nothing, he trusted him blindly, he knew that the man would rather die than betray the Brotherhood, which allowed Erik time to prepare the attack, planned some days later.

 

―――――

 

The clock of his private lounge chimed eight o'clock when the young noble heard someone knock at his window. He delicately put down the cup of tea that he had been sipping on his base made of porcelain before standing up. He was not surprised to discover Erik kept outside by a simple barrier made of glass. He noticed that the Assassin had removed his hood.

Charles hesitated ; the resentment he felt towards the Assassins had not disappear in spite of the incarceration of the murderer of his sister. His fury however, had faded. And at this moment, his heart and his body were attracted to this man, screaming at him to open the window and to let his instinct guide him.

He didn't resist any longer and unlocked the window, allowing the Assassin to slide into his private quarters. They didn't exchange any word, their eyes spoke for them. The bright blue orbs of Charles were not veiled anymore by hate, even if they conserved the mark of mourning. The rage that had overwhelmed the young man the other night didn't reflect anymore in his magnificent iris. As for Erik, the steel colour of his eyes revealed a deep desire for forgiveness, adressing apologies without the help of words. They were also filled with hope, a gleam that shone as a nascent star ; the hope that, maybe, he could recover the man he loved.

No words were needed, Charles came closer to the Assassin and kissed him without any hesitation. To prove his pacifism the Assassin had come without weapons, only equipped of his tradional hidden blades. He trusted him, he had read the sincerity and regrets in the eyes of Erik ; and after all, didn't they say that eyes were the windows of the soul ?

Instinctly, Erik encircled his arms around the frail body of his lover, holding him softly against him. He got back to this soft and so distinctive warmth, this heat that had been replaced a few days before by the worst of coldness. He rediscovered the taste of Charles' lips, his smell, his feel, everything. Sensations that had been so far away from him.

Charles surrounded the neck of the Irish with his arms, savouring the lips of his partner with hunger and passion. Resentment lingered in a corner of his mind but right now the Templar moved aside any negative thought, he focused on Erik and no one else. Only the Assassin mattered this evening. They were finding each other again, discovering each other, letting the flame of life of one overwheming the other until they formed one and only brazier.

  
“ I missed you... ” confessed Charles in a breath, diving his bright eyes in the sharp ones of Erik.  
“ Me too Charles... ”

  
Followed a new kiss more spirited and passionate than the others, more fervent, more sensual, the one that raised radically their corporeal temperature as well as their heart rate. Erik began to unbutton the shirt of the noble, but was stopped by the thin hands of the latter, hesitant.

  
“ Charles, do you trust me ? ” whispered tenderly the Assassin, kissing the knuckles of his lover.  
“ … Yes ...  
\- Know that I would never do anything that you don't desire.  
\- No... I want you Erik, since the first time we kissed right here a couple weeks ago... ”

  
The two men ended in the room of the noble, and surrendered to each other, blending bodies, sweats, souls and breaths. A passionate and sensual union that emptied them both of their energy. They were lying down under the crumpled sheets of Charles, the head of the Templar leaning on the muscular chest of the Assassin. Charles was drawing imaginary shapes on the skin of his lover, distractly, as Erik played tenderly with the brown curls of Charles.

He threaded his fingers in his strands, stroking with his fingertips his skull, his cheeks, redrawing the delicate curves and ending his race on the back of his neck. The touch of the nimble and attentionate fingers of Erik on his skin made him shiver, this area of his body was particularly sensitive. This reaction didn't escape the attention of the Irish who slowly placed a kiss on the forehead of his partner. Overwhelmed by a rush of affection, he redrew the facial features of Charles with the tip of his lips, taking care to brush them too. Charles let him do it, a peaceful smile on his lips that he was not even conscious of. They had rediscovered themselves in the most beautiful way.

But the night was only beginning.

As the two lovers took advantage of the obscurity and calm of the night to discover each other more intimately, enjoying their reunion, the storm was taking shape and progressing slowly in their direction.

The war was pending.


	9. Fate

Morning was here, accompanied by warm beams of sun. Not a cloud shadowed the sky, only a soft pink and golden tint coloured it. The fresh air of December had dropped off a thin white layer of frost on the grass of the city, enhancing the urban landscape of London. Winter was coming and the first snowflakes would not take long to cover the place in a majestic white coat. The chimneys of the habitations spit their thick black smoke ; inside, the Londoners basked in the calm of a city slowly waking, in warm places away from the cold of December.

The gardens of the Xavier's manor were covered with frost, shining brightly when the sun dropped its soft beams on it. The cobblestones that replaced the mud had become slippery. The streets were deserted, only a few guards watched closely the area, on the lookout for any intruder. The rest of the landscape seemed to be frozen in time, prisoner of the cold.

Charles slowly opened his eyes, revealing two gorgeous blue eyes still hooded by sleep. They landed on the man against who he was leaning, his heat surrounding him all, a sensation of serenity and safety. The arms of the Irish surrounded him, seeming unwilling to ever release him. Away from the outside's cold, the two lovers were slowly waking up, lost in their intimate bubble. Erik took advantage of the awakening of Charles to stroke tenderly the porcelain skin of his back, lingering on his spine, roaming on his shoulder blades and his right side, drawing every curve with the tip of his fingers. Every now and then, Charles shivered under the touch, getting a little smile out of his partner. Erik came a little closer and placed his lips on the forehead of his lover in a tender gesture full of affection.

  
“ Good morning Mo ghrá, did you sleep well ? ” asked softly Erik.  
“ It has been a long time since I slept so well, thank you Erik. ” answered Charles as he placed his soft lips on his in a tender kiss devoid of ardour.

  
The two men remained remained intertwined for some time, enjoying the warmth of each other, before pulling apart reluctantly. Duty was calling them, they had both so much to do, their time was way too precious. Erik pulled on his Assassin's dress and his hidden blades before stealing one last kiss from Charles. A last passionate kiss.

The Assassin left the room as he had entered it, by the window, taking care of not being detected by the guards stationed everywhere in the estate, braving the cold of a winter a little too early. The Assassin disappeared in the streets of London that slowly got out of its torpor, gradually letting its inhabitants tread upon its icy cobblestones.

 

―――――

  
Charles smiled dreamily as he thought about the night that he had just passed in the arms and the warmth of his dear lover. Their factions were maybe opposing them but their heart thought otherwise, attracting each other like magnets. But even the softness of these passed moments didn't let the Templar forget that the murderer of his sister was still alive ; wounded and tortured indeed, but alive. He had not forgotten that he and the Assassins would sooner or later enter into conflict, his relation with Erik would smash to smithereens soon. This night had undoublty been the first and the last. He proceeded to his ablutions and put on his clothes, without forgetting to slide the Templar ring on his ring finger and to fix the cross at his buttonhole. The Grand Master was waiting for him.

―――――

  
Seated on a bench, Erik used his eagle sight to observe the vicinity. He spotted some guards patrolling around St George Hanover Square. They were five, not enough to put Erik under strain. He noticed a discreet seal engraved in the stone of the church ; the symbol of the Assasins. The entrance of the den was situated under the building. He stood up, taking advantage of the inattention of the soldiers to come closer to the seal. He triggered his hidden blade with a gesture of his wrist and thrusted the steel into the interstice provided. He heard a chiming, warning of the unlocking of the secret door. Erik pressed himself against the stone to make it pivot and found himself before a dark hallway, lighted by multiple burning torchs. The stone door closed, once again locked and invisible to those who didn't possess the gift of the eagle.

The Assassin followed the light of the torchs, taking a spiral staircase. The steps seemed never-ending when, finally, the man arrived in a vast room with walls adorned of tapestries on which stood majestically the seal of the Brotherhood. A sweet smell of tea tickled the nose of the Assassin, compelling him to follow it. A litle further, he was not surprised to find his brothers and sisters in arms, all had answered present to the call of Edward Kenway. They were seated around a big wooden table on which rested cups of tea and, at the center, a gigantic map of the entire city. On it where displayed every street, every building, as well as the underground network. In the district of Mayfair, a drawing pin had been placed, pointing out the location of the manor of Sebastian Shaw, the main target to kill. Without him, the Templars would be rendered helpless.

Erik lifted his head to discover a board leaning against the wall. The portraits of the different targets to kill were hanged on it, including Kurt and Cain Marko, Raven Darholme, Sebastian Shaw. All were stroke with a red stoke of paint. All, except the one of Shaw and another. Charles Francis Xavier. The blood of the Assassin froze instantly, suddenly becoming as cold as the weather that covered the city. Charles was one of the target to kill.

―――――

  
More than a week passed, the cold became even more intense, reminding them of the end of the year. The Templars had not yet use the power of the Apple of Eden, reinforcing their troops in order to be ready to counter the imminent attack of their enemies.

On their side, the men of the shadows had planned their assault to free Logan the grip of the Templars. They knew the Tower of London, its cells, its entrance spots, as well as the secret underground where was their friend. The would use the undergrounds, neutralise the Templar guards and rescue the Assassin before the alarm was raised.

Unfortunatly, the rescue mission didn't go as planned, the soldiers had been waiting for the intrusion of the Assassins and the security had been reinforced in the undergrounds. A true bloodbath happened, Assassins and soldiers falling defeated, skins opened and guts lying on the ground. The casualties were heavy in the two factions, but fortunately, the Assassins maintained the majority and eliminated every single guard, allowing Erik to free his brother from his ties.

Logan was in a really bad shape. At first glance the Irish counted several broken ribs, numerous bruises and raw burns, superficial cuts in some places and deep gashes in others. His face, covered with bruises and blood, expressed an immense relief, he was finally going to be freed from his abductors. Despite his weakness and tiredness, he still managed to stand and didn't hesitate to spit on the lifeless body of its torturer in reprisal. He followed Erik outside the building, escorted by the Assassins still standing, and they all went back to the hideout of the british Brotherhood.

Logan was free and, once healed, they finally could trigger the final assault against Shaw and retrieve the Apple. And if Erik could spare the life of his dear lover, he would not hesitate a second to do so.

 

―――――

 

Almost two weeks passed by, the first snowflakes had poured a few days ago, dressing London with a somptuous thin white coat. The cobblestones streets were now only a mix of mud and melted snow. Lords and Ladies took refuge in their manors, avoiding the cold and the miseries that winter brought, prefering the social events of the month of December. Shaw didn't leave his abode, planning the actions of the Templars from the inside. Their ranks grew day after day, more and more soldiers joined their army. Shaw was perfectly aware that the enemy would attack soon, his spies had recently confirmed him that the battle would take place in the week. So be it, he would fight and eliminate that Erik Lehnsherr, the Assassins would be slowed without their dear Mentor. Moreover, the Apple was in safety.

Under the St George's church, the last directives were given, every Assassin would be granted a precise role in the battle to come. The belt of each one was heavily armed with dagger, sword, smoke bombs, poisoned darts and the traditional hidden blade, more sharp than ever, ready to tear the skin of its enemy. Logan would also join the massacre, he had recovered his strengh and his motivation had been increased by his abduction. He only wished for one thing, confront the Templars, retrieve the Apple and take it back where it belonged : Dublin. Even if his body had not entirely recovered from its wounds, his blade vibrated with impatience. As for Erik, he begged inwardly for Charles to not be in the manor so his lover would have a chance to survive. He had managed to convince his brothers to let him live, on the condition that the man didn't thwart their plans. That was the deal.

The afternoon preceding the assault was calm, too calm. Outside, birds had gone silent, the bare branchs of the trees were figées, not a single breeze of wind shook them. The outside seemed dead, devoid of soul. The gardens were white, nothing moved. The stationed guards were the only activity. In truth, the part of Mayfair that surrounded the manor of the Grand Master had been evacuated and closed. Not a single walker treaded upon the ground of the area. Shaw himself had ordered to secure the area, the last thing he wished for was for innocents to get involved and lose their life.

The atmosphere was surrealistic, frozen in time, waiting for the storm to come.

And thunder finally rolled. A cloud of white smoke fogged the gardens as the assailants killed the guards one after the other. The archers stationed at the windows could not see anything, powerless. The blades danced a deadly waltz, slicing the throat of their victim without noise, piercing the carotid of others in a painful scream.

Not a single gunshot resounded, the Assassins opting for the element of surprise. All the soldiers of the west wing were neutralised and there was no loss for the Assassins. Like shadows, the men and women in hoods infiltrated the enclosure of the building, led by Logan.

There, the element of surprise was inefficient as soldiers were waiting for the attack. Steel banged on steel and blood called blood. A Templar fell, dead, followed by an Assassin, a sword running straight through his hear. The enemies gathered massively in the room while, on the other side, another faction of Assassins fought stubbornly, slicing through fabrics and organs, staining the rugs with sticky blood and human guts, from allies as well as enemies. An absolute slaughter.

Erik threw a smoke bomb on the ground, plunging the room in a thick fog. The Assassins seized the opportunity to increase their attacks against the guards as he made his way towards the quarters of the Grand Master. Hidden behind a sofa, he reached for his belt in order to grab another smoke bomb, but his ammunition were out of stock. Well, he would do without. From his hiding place, he grabbed one of his throwing knife and put one in the skull of one of the guards, decreasing the troops to 5 soldiers.

A second came closer to the body and received a knife in the carotid. Blood spurted as Erik pulled out the weapon from his body, that fell on the ground, deprived of oxygen. The four other soldiers, alerts, surrounded the sofa, swords in hands, ready to attack. Logan suddenly appeared, stained with the blood of his victims as well as his own, thrusting his hidden blade into the throat of a guard. He barely avoided the sharp steel of the sword of a second one, slowed by his disabled arm. During the attack of the west wing, his past wounds had manifested and one of the soldier had taken advantage of it and dived the blade of his musket in the arm of the Assassin, severing the central nerve. His right arm was useless, a cruel disadvantage.

The two Assassins stood together, neutralising the soldiers gathering in the room. Behind the door was Shaw, probably waiting for the final confrontation. Erik took a bullet in his right thigh ; pain tugged at him but it didn't matter, he had to carry on, they were near their goal, impossible to give up now. The Irish eliminated one of the two guards still standing, throwing his corpse towards the others on the rug. Between the two of them, Erik and Logan had thrown about fifteen soldiers on the ground.

Except that a mistake of inattention happened fast and the price was heavy to pay.

Logan collapsed, his knees knocking the fabric soaked with blood, a spear thrusted into his chest. The steel had just run through his heart and air was lacking ; his body fell in a deathly silence. The eyes of the Assassin met the ones of Erik. The Mentor had to carry on the mission, he had to kill Shaw, those were the last wishes of Logan. The Irish clenched his fist so strongly that his nails broke his skin, letting a thin trickle of blood flow from his knuckles. He grabbed his own sword and threw it with all his strengh towards the murderer of his brother, who received it straight in the head, his brain spreading on the wall right behind him. He fell dead.

  
Erik shot one last look, of pain and fury blended, at his late friend before unlocking the last door. He retrieved on the way one of the numerous swords lying on the ground between the corpses and bursted in the room. Before him, Sebastian Shaw stood, seemingly calm and impassive, arms folded in his back.

  
“ Erik, you have been longer than I expected.  
\- Where is the Apple ? ” asked Erik curtly, triggering his hidden blade with one hand, holding firmly his sword in the other.  
“ In a safe place, where the Assassins will not find it.  
\- Where is it ? ” yelled the Assassin, furious.  
“ I will never talk, even under torture. ” Shaw answered, remaining calm. “ Your father was as hot-headed as you, he acted as it pleased him, led by his pulsions. Your mother however was way more pathetic, and weak. Did you know Erik, that before meeting Jakob, your dear mother was on our side ?  
\- What ?  
\- She never told you ? ” sniggered the man. “ She was a Templar, until she betrayed us and joined your kind. She should have been executed sooner, as a traitor to the Order.  
\- Enough ! ”

  
Erik rushed towards the other man, his blade cutting the air at the Templar's side. Shaw had the advantage, he didn't suffer from wounds or tiredness. The fight was imbalanced. The blades knocked against each other, the steel shining brightly. The Assassin received a violent hit in his injured thigh, making him lose his balance and fall heavily on the ground. The Grand Master took the advantage and immobilized Erik by placing himself over him. He sent the sword of the Irish some meters away, with a kick. Erik was vulnerable, pain paralysed him, but he didn't give up, waiting for an opportunity.

And it came, as the enemy throttled him, preventing him to receive precious oxygen ; his distraction cost him his life. Erik dived his hidden blade in the carotid of the Templar, only removing it after several seconds, letting the blood spurt from the gaping wound. Shaw fell on his knees, pressing on the wounded area to stop the haemorrhage, in vain. It only slowed his fall.

  
“ You may have killed me... ” breathed the dying man. “ But you have not win yet...  
\- Where is the Apple of Eden ? ” repeated the Assassin, towering over him.  
“ You... You should never have taken interest in Charles... He is infalllibly faithful to the Templars and will be until death... You... You are now going to pay the price for it... ”

  
On those words, Shaw collapsed on the rug, unmoving. The Grand Master had fallen.  
Erik remained frozen, Charles was in the possession of the Piece of Eden.

 

―――――

  
The manor of Shaw was now nothing more than a vast cemetery where lied the corpses of the Templars, but also of the Assassins. Many had died that day, just like Logan. The man was probably smiling from where he was, he had given his life for the cause of the Assassins. He that insisted that he wished to die in battle, his wish had been granted. So much blood, so many dead, all that had to cease.

The hideout of the Assassins was really empty, a deathly hush reigned in the place. A handful of them still remained, ready to engage in a last battle. Erik stood before the board with the targets and marked the portait of the Grand Master with a red cross. Here, he was avenged of the death of his parents, of Logan. And yet, he didn't feel any satisfaction, only an immense void.

A messager appeared at his side and gave him a letter. It came from the Xavier's manor. Charles. Erik hurried to break the seal of the Templars that shut the envelope before grabbing its contents.

  
" My dearest Erik,

It is with a tremendous pain that I am writing you those words, because they herald a near and tragic end. Fate has made its choice, and neither of us will back off. You wish for the humanity to stay free, I want to lead it towards progress. We can not agree with each other, and that can only end with the death of one of us.

Know that I don't want to kill you Erik, but my title requires it. Thus, if you wish to avoid another bloodbath, leave the city with the rest of the Assassins. Otherwise, blood will flow. You are free to choose.

I regret none of the moments passed at your side, no one had ever made me feel such feelings of affection and tenderness before you. Ironic, isn't it ?

I love you Erik.  
But this is where our paths split up.

Sincerely yours,  
Charles F. Xavier, Grand Master of the british Templar Order. "

  
Erik stifled a scream of hate and pain, why did it have to end like that ? Why was he doomed to suffer ? Was it his punishment for all the lifes he had taken ? He looked one last time at the painting of his beloved before frowning and turning towards his brothers and sisters.

They had to prepare the final assault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mo ghrá means my love


	10. Epilogue

Charles was shuffling in his vast manor, Moira at his side witnessing him perambulating, confined in his dark thoughts. He was wearing a somptuous sea blue outfit adorned with golden trims, a cape of the same colour dissimulating his right arm, ebony trousers and leather boots as dark. His belt was equipped of a sword and on his right right finger, coated with a black glove, shined the ring of the Order. A formal dress. The cross of the Templars hanged around his neck, reminder of his new title.

The young noble was thinking about that conflict, the past, his father and mother, the two maniacs that had dictated his life, his dear sister. About Erik...

Some days ago, a messenger had announced him the assassination of Master Shaw, making him the new Grand Master of the bristish Order.

 

―――――

 

During his lifetime, Shaw had wished to talk with Charles, entrusting him with the Apple of Eden. He had given him his last order as the leader of the Templars, the young man had to accomplish their fate : establish order and direction within the population to lead it towards progress. Such was his mission.

Shaw had written a missive that would later be relayed to their Irish, Welsh and Scots brothers, as well to the entire world. This letter was the written proof of the handover of power between him and his agent. A missive in which Charles was appointed as the new british Grand Master, when the death of the current holder of the title would not be able anymore to carry out his duties.

Shaw had since long expected the attack of the Assassins, he was perfectly aware of his pending death. Which is why he could not let their enemies ruin their plans, and what could be better than to entrust the Piece of Eden and the future of the Order to the one that represented their last hope ? The actual relationship between Charles and Erik was not a secret anymore for anyone, whichever the faction. And Shaw well intented to take advantage of it to help the Templars thrive. Erik would never to kill his dear lover, he would try to spare him by any means, but the noble would never give up his title and would honour the task that fell to him at whatever cost.

―――――

 

The new Grand Master paced up and down, looking thoughtful and almost sad ; even if the murderer of his sister didn't live any longer, speared straight in the heart by a blade.

The Assassins didn't have any need for that heart, most of them certainly didn't possess one. How could anyone imagine them tender and affectuous when they killed with cold blood innocents in spite of what their Creed stipulated. The torn off lives belonged to married men and women, fathers and mothers, honest or malicious, rich or poor. They only had the misfortune of finding themselves on the path of those criminals. And they dared to pretend to be the good guys ? Everything was a question of perspective. Indeed, the Templars were not without faults, but not all of them had bloodied hands. The Templars only killed when necessary, they spared the lives of the innocents when it was possible. Hard to distinguish who was really good or bad.

Logan was dead, the soul of Charles had obtained vengeance for Raven.  
And he had one last mission to accomplish.

Reginald Birch finally arrived, accompanied by soldiers, wearing a formal dress too. He greeted respectfully his new Master.

  
“ Good morning Master Birch, is everything ready ?  
\- Yes Grand Master, we are only waiting for you.  
\- Well, I'm following you. ”

  
Charles grabbed a box of ebony wood before following his second in command, diving into the cart readied by the staff of the estate. All around, soldiers ensured his protection. The Assassins were never far.

 

―――――

 

Erik was perched at the top of one of the towers of the building, scrutinising the movements of every one meticulously. Nothing escaped him. The place was heavily watched, elite soldiers, hidden marksmen, in great number. So many enemies for so few Assassins. Their own ranks counted about thirty members when the Templars had twice as many. The Irish swallowed. Heavy casualties were to be expected.

The calm of the courtyard was broken by a sudden bustle ; two carts had just made their entrance, carrying the most powerful Templar of the Order. Charles Xavier, followed by a second man ; a soldier probably. The Grand Master had arrived, and in his hands was a strange box.

Every pawn was at its place. The Assassins, hidden in the shadow at every corner of the tower, were watching out for the signal of their Mentor, ready to swoop on their enemies.

The Templars formed a circle and at its center, Charles stood ; the guards and soldiers scanning the area for any sign of hostility.

The gaze of Erik landed on Charles, on his outfit perfectly matched with his eyes and on his fair complexion. He seemed so different from the young man he knew as he now exuded a strong and determined aura. His shoulders previously so frail now held in a dignified manner the weight of the title of Grand Master and the weight of the fate of his followers. His gaze was hard and certain, these magnificent blue orbs yet so tender in the presence of the Irish. Charles had changed in so little time, he wasn't a fragile noble anymore, broken and beaten, wounded by life. His wounds had made him stronger and had made of him the man that Erik got ready to kill. The man he loved.

The Templar got a golden orb out of his velvet box, on the object appeared several unknown engraving. Charles brandished it, showing it to all his brothers. The Apple of Eden. It shined brightly, its gold decorations illuminating the courtyard with a soft light.

  
“ My brothers, my sisters, ” began the Master. “ I possess here the key of free will, the key of our success, the completion of years of studies, of conflicts. We will be able to eradicate violence, we will be able to institute direction and order within the people. My brothers, my sisters, our conflict with the Assassins will finally end, all our predecessors didn't fall in vain. Today, we will become the leaders of mankind. ”

  
As the object produced a strong golden light, Erik nodded. The attack had just been triggered. The Assassins threw multiple smoke bombs to take advantage of the element of surprise and swooped on their prey, neutralising temporarily the power of the Piece. The armed forces gathered in mass around the Grand Master, providing him a thick shield.

The guards fell one after the other, as the marksmen were loading their muskets for a new salvo the archers fired their arrows in a deadly rain. The troops decreased noticeably, in both factions.

Once the guards tasked with the protection of Charles had all fallen, the Templar became vulnerable. Erik took advantage of it to come closer to him, thrusting the blade of his sword into the body of a soldier, killing him instantly.

He finally stood before his lover, whose clothes were stained with blood, both from his enemies and his allies.

  
“ Charles, I can't kill you, please..." tried the Assassin.  
“ It's inevitable Erik, and you know it. All of this will only end when one of us will die. ” answered Charles. “ So fight. ”

  
Charles launched an attack, moving forward his adversary at a brisk pace, trying to wound him. He mastered the blades, it was obvious ; Erik had never suspected it until then. The fight was balanced, even if, deep down, none of the two men wished to fight to death. But as the Templar had mentioned, that conflict could not get a happy conclusion. No, romance was impossible between them, their relation was only doomed to tragedy.

The eyes of Erik found the one of his enemy, these so magnificent eyes previously filled with so much tenderness now reflected nothing more than resolution. The Assassin guessed the sadness that pulled the young man, but this had to cease.

There were fighting, trying to hurt the other, steel dancing in a murderous waltz, jingling in a clear sound. Neither of them had the advantage until Charles made the most of an opening to cut the armed arm of his lover with his blade, tearing a groan of pain from the man. The Templar seemed determined to end it. He rushed forward the Irish again, his sword taking aim at him, but Erik avoided it narrowly, kicking the back of his knee. The hit made the British stumble and collapse on the ground, his weapon several meters away from his position.

Erik had just had the time to immobilize his enemy when a gunshot resounded in the entire courtyard.

The Templar felt a sudden and harrowing pain in his chest. The bullet had penetrated his flesh, tearing it on its way, piercing the blood vessels. Soon, the haemorrhage would take the young man.

The Assassin looked all around him to determine the source of the shot ; a lost allied bullet had rebounded against the walls of the courtyard, to end its race in the body of the Templar.

Erik rushed to get at the sides of his lover in death throes, deprived of his oxygen. He removed hastily the burgundy belt of his Assassin's dress and pressed on in the hope of stopping the bleeding. It was useless, he was aware of it, he only delayed the inevitable. The entire body of Charles was cooling and his head spun because of the lack of oxygen and the pain. Erik put a hand under the skull of his lover, holding it, as his second hand stroked his cheek distractedly.

The soft blues eyes of the Templars landed on him, there was no longer any trace of struggle, only tenderness. Erik knew that it was the last time that he could contemplate these glorious blue eyes before these lids closed forever. The thin pink lips formed a small smile. Charles didn't cry ; he had indeed failed his mission, but he died for the cause, for the Templars. He had tried to establish peace, even if the result had been tragic.

  
“ I am so sorry Charles... ” whispered the Irish.  
“ It is not your fault Erik... It was the good thing to do... I regret nothing, neither you, neither my choice of allegiance... I am happy and I'm leaving in peace. ”

  
The noble coughed, spitting blood ; the haemorrhage was serious and Charles would succumb in ten minutes after a long misery.

  
“ Erik please... Do me a last favour...  
\- Everything you want.  
\- Kill me...  
\- What ? I can't...  
\- Do it for me, the pain is unbearable and... ” whispered the Templar, exhausted. “ I prefer to die by your hand... Please...  
\- I am sorry...  
\- I beg you Erik.  
\- I love you Charles. ” said Erik as he put his lips on the one of his lover in a last kiss, soft and passionate at the same time, filled with tenderness and sadness.

  
The Templar whispered a soft “me too” and Erik triggered his hidden blade, letting the immaculate steel shine in a distinctive sound. That blade that had suppressed so many lives was about to harvest the most precious of them all. The hand under the head of Charles stroked his skull in a soothing touch.

Charles closed his eyes and Erik knew that he would never see the magnificent pupils of his lover again. Then, slowly, his free hand guided the blade towards the carotid of the Templar, piercing it sharp and fast, blowing out almost instantly the flame of life of Charles. His breathing ceased and his hands slided along his body, inert and cold.

  
“ Requiescat in pace, amor vitae meae. ”

  
On these words, he left the lifeless body of his dead lover, tears clouding his steely eyes.

He threw a new smoke bomb and grabbed the Apple of Eden before reaching the top of one of the towers in the greatest discretion. He spotted his brothers and sisters, now very few.

An Assassin was overpowering a soldier on the ground.

  
“ Mercy ! ” yelled the guard.

  
A word. A last word exhaled in a last breath. A last statement before a thick scarlet liquid spreads over the white and immaculate linen, exalting the pattern with a passionate tint. A body that is slowy falling on the floor, accompanied in its fall by its persecutor, as noises of light footsteps are quickly moving away. The smell of blood permeates the place. One is prononcing some last words in a foreign dialect, the other is bleeding to death, helpless.

Darkness rises, swallowing everything in its way.

Silence.

Nothingness.

“ … ”

  
Erik fell from his platform, wounded by an arrow stuck in his back.  
He would finally join Charles in the other world.

 

―――――

 

When he opened his eyes again, he instantly recognised the faces surrounding him. Azazel as well as his brothers were smiling to him, happy to see their Mentor wake up after days plunged into coma.

He was back in Ireland, the Apple had be returned to its legitimate owners, to its place.

The Assassins had won. But the heart of Erik was forever broken.


End file.
